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blossom-works · 10 months

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Opposites Attract

A/N: I have no knowledge about technology & engineering so don’t come at me internet...😐

Who would have thought that Ego Jinpachi’s cousin is the secret lover of the world’s best striker, Noel Noa? Certainly not Chris Prince. Or anyone in the Blue Lock as a matter of fact. And the cherry on top is that you, Noel’s fiancé and Ego’s cousin, are responsible for building this state-of-the-art facility. You are a tech geek and was able to geek out at the request of your cousin. Since Blue Lock began, you have been behind the scenes to make sure everything is running smoothly. No one but your cousin, Anri, and the money grubbing fucks of the JFU knew about you. Now, a large group of footballers know about you since someone decided to mess with your technology.

“Honestly! How did you manage to pull out multiple fuses! And how did you get into the control center?!”

Chris Prince scratches the back of his head in semi-shame. “I got curious and wanted to know what does what.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here!”

In frustration, you try to reconnect the different fuses to the appropriate ports, but it seems that when Chris pulled them out, he damaged the chords attached to them. How that is possible, you do not know. Your phone starts buzzing from the back pocket of your pants. Answering, you hear your cousin, Ego, on the other side. Demanding to know what you did wrong.

“I didn’t do anything, dipshit! - One of your genius masters decided it would be a good idea to pull out multiple fuses. - Chris Prince. - I don’t know how he managed to do that! - Well he isn’t that smart if he pulled them out because he was just curious. - The fuses he pulled out powered Blue Lock Man and other training material. - Yes, that means advanced training will be out of the question. - Maybe two days? Three max. - That’s your job to figure out! - Oh shut up and stop complaining, dumbass.” You hang up the call with a huff and gather the broken fuses to properly dispose of them. When you turn around, you are surprised and annoyed that the Englishman is still standing there.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Uhh...are you single?”

His question catches you off guard which makes you drop one of your poor babies. Dumbfounded, you ask the striker to clarify.

“Are you taken?”

Now, you are a bit more ticked off than you already were. You put the fuses to the side, and place your fists on your hips. “Let me get this straight, you come into my command center and play with creations because self-control is obviously nowhere in your vocabulary. All of which forces me to rearrange my already busy schedule, and you have the audacity to hit on me? Did I miss anything number two?”

Chris looks at you for a few seconds before he proudly responds “Nope!” with a flashy smile.

Exasperated, you point to the automatic door (which you will have to rethink). “I’m already engaged. Now get out.”

Instead of obeying like a good boy, Chris tries to use his charms on you.

“C’mon, I bet your fiancé isn’t that great. Compared to me at least.” He winks.

“I would have to say otherwise. Compared to you, he is great.” And before Prince can say anything else, you push him out the door and lock it before anyone else can bother you. Once in peace, you make a couple of calls to order more fuses and to hire a team to help you further develop Blue Lock’s technology. Engrossed in your work, you do not hear someone knocking on your door. It takes one loud knock to bring you back to reality. Jumping out of your chair you unlock the metal door.

“Ego m'a dit que l'entraînement ne serait pas possible dans les prochains jours.“ Noel asks. He has on his usual tracksuit and has a cup of freshly made coffee in his hand. Ego told me that training would not be possible in the next few days.

Since basically everyone got a translating earpiece, you chose to answer him in your native tongue. When the Neo-Egoist Phase began, you partnered with the Mikage Corporation to advance their earpiece. While the device cannot translate all languages, it can translate a good handful when preprogrammed. Though, you are not sold on the idea of talking to intergalactic beings.

“Basically. The world’s second best striker and the world’s first dumbass messed with my technology. All of which powered the Blue Lock Man and amongst other things. You guys can still train the o’fashion way and the kids can still workout, but advanced training is off the table.”

“I see. How long until the system is up and running?”

“Three days max.”

Noel nods and hands you the cup of hot caffeine. You take the Blue Lock mug and silently thank him. You take one sip and plant the mug on a surface away from the monitors. Like he expected it, Noel catches you when you quickly jump on top of him and nuzzle your nose against his cheek.

“But I missed you! I haven’t seen you since you first got to Blue Lock!” You complain like a child.

“You saw me this morning, and the mornings before.”

“So! We haven’t spent any time together though.” You move your face slightly away from Noel’s so he can see your puppy dog eyes and pout. The Frenchman sighs like he is tired of your antics, but you know better. If he was truly tired of your childishness, he would have put you down but Noel has yet to do that. Instead, Noel keeps his hands under your thighs to hold you up. A small sign of his that lets you know he misses you too. Childish antics and all.

“You can’t just leave your fiancé hanging around like this! Having me wait around to get some well-deserved attention is just cruel!”

Noel says nothing as you hop off him and drag him to sit in your chair so you can sit on his lap. Sticking to your silly behavior, you pepper Noel’s face with kisses like the lovesick woman you are. You take his face in your hands and plant a big kiss on his sightly chapped lips. Immediately the Frenchman reciprocates the kiss. Another way he silently admits that he misses you too. Happy that you are getting the attention you have been craving, you pull back a bit to see the thin strand of saliva break. Letting out happy squeals, you nuzzle your face against Noel’s while wiggling your body like an excited puppy. The striker lets you have your fill of him (not like that you rotten minds) before he goes back to the Germany part of the building.

Of course, he does not leave the control center without paying a kiss(es) fee. Noel leaves planning a new training schedule and you stay in your little nook happy as a schoolgirl who got the number of her longtime crush. Honestly, it never ceases to amaze you how a cyborg like Noel Noa lets you get away with acting like a child. Looks like being his significant other has its perks.

Three Days Later:

Clapping yours hands, you quadruple check your handy-work. (No) Thanks to Chris Prince, you had to install the fuses inside their own boxes so no one can take them out again. You also installed a lock to the control center. People can only enter when they have the passcode. Updates have also been installed into Blue Lock tech so the club masters can get more creative with training. Now all you have to do is make sure that each club is running smoothly with the new installments. One by one go through each building for thorough check-ups, and secretly cheering on the Blue Lockers. Since you saved the best for last, you skidded on your way to Germany’s Bastard Munchens.

But, all good things must come to an end.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Tech.”

“Dear god, what do you want Prince?”

“I want to know who your loser of a fiancé is.”

Feeling a little smug, you decide it is best to give the Englishman what he wants.

“If it’ll get you to leave me alone, then so be it. I’m on my way to meet him anyway.”

For some reason, pride makes Chris puff out his chest like Superman as he follows behind you. He is even walking like he is some sort of a hero. How amusing. With the tablet in your hands, you go through the new data it has been collecting. Since Ego is the man in charge here, you need to compile a report of the new tech you installed, and the cost. If it was still the first phase of Blue Lock, the amount of money used to create the program would be equivalent to how much debt the United States is (that is a bit exaggerated but you get the picture). Now that you guys have sponsors and BL TV, money is streaming in like cryptocurrency.

“Hey, isn’t this the way to-”

“Noel!”

Said man turns around only to be tackled by a woman half his size. Thank goodness for his physicality or else you both would have fallen onto the ground. Like you always do, you nuzzle the side of his face with your nose.

“What are you doing here? We’re in the middle of practice.”

“Oh, I came to check on how the new update is fairing. Just following routine to make sure things are going smoothly.” You say as you get off the man. The commotion gets the players’ attention. Too busy showing Noel what is on the tablet, you do not realize that Noel give his players a glare. Telling them to get back to training like their lives depend on it.

“Prince? What are you doing here?”

“So, I’m finally acknowledged by the great Noel Noa.” Chris sarcastically says. “If you must know, this little lady is taking me to meet her third-grade fiancé. But I guess she’s going to finish her work beforehand. Now hurry up so she can see how much better I am than whoever she’s engaged to.”

The albino raises a brow before uncharacteristically scoffing and goes back to ignoring the world’s second best striker.

“What? You know, you think you’re all high and mighty but you’re not.” The petty Prince states. He only aggravates himself further as he starts a one sided argument with Noel. Meanwhile, you busy yourself with examining how the players are using the new and updated tech.

“Excuse me, but who are you?”

“Ah, Yoichi Isagi. I’m just here to make sure that everything is running smoothly so I can give a report to Ego. Don’t worry, I won’t get in your team’s way.” Before you can explain more, you notice a small tweak in the Blue Lock Man which prompts you to halt practice. You got a few hisses and groans but ignored them all. Out of thin air, you take out a couple of screws, a small hard drive, and a screwdriver.

Taking a panel off the wall, you plug in the hard drive and start typing away on your tablet. One of the players tries to ask you what you are doing and how long you plan on being here, to which you just hold up a finger, telling the player to wait. A couple more clicks and you are happy with your work. Pulling the hard drive out and putting the panel back on the wall, you tell Bastard Munchen “Alrighty! There shouldn’t be anymore issues for you guys.”

“But...there wasn’t any problem to begin with...”

“Ah ah.” You wave your finger in a “no-no” motion. “It was only for a split second but the Blue Lock Man you were using had a glitch to it. It wasn’t noticeable to the untrained eyes, but since my more than qualified eyes caught it, I had to fix it right away. If I left the Blue Lock Man as he was, then future problems with it would arise. Prohibiting further training.”

Most of the team looks at you in awe at your explanation (mainly the Blue Lockers).

“Woah! Are you some tech guru?”

“Have you been working here this entire time?”

“How old are you?”

More and more questions are being bombarded towards you. Smiling at their curiosity, you answer some of their questions. You bow to them in a formal greeting.

“I’m an employee here at Blue Lock. I’ve been working here since the very beginning. In fact, I’m the person who created and designed this entire facility. From the infrastructure to the technology, that was all me.”

Like Gru’s minion, they all let out a “Woah”. You should have known that your introduction would only lead to more questions. Thankfully, Kaiser comes to your rescue. Albeit, rudely.

“Hurry up and get into formation. There’s no need for a maintenance worker to overstay their welcome. Now leave. You’re becoming a pest.”

A little ticked by the boy’s attitude, you put on a polite smile. “I thinks that’s best too. Afterall, the main actor needs to keep practicing or else he’ll always have to rely on his co-stars to make up for his shortcomings.” Your patronizing tone and pleasant smile pisses Kaiser off and before he can say anything more, you walk away, bumping the teen with your shoulder on “accident”. You spot your fiancé antagonizing the Frenchman with his dry humor.

“I’m done with my inspection!” You cry out as you jump on Noel’s back to perform your ritual of nuzzling. “I wish I could stay longer but Ego would have my head if I’m late with my report.”

“I thought you were on your way to see your fiancé. Wait a minute, did you just make up a lie cause you’re too shy to go on a date with me?” Chris asks while raising both his blonde brows.

Still on Noel, you blink confused for a quick second. “Oh, I wasn’t lying. If I’m being 100 percent honest, you’ve already met my fiancé but didn’t know it’s him. You still haven’t found out who he is even though I’ve made it clear about three times now. And this ring doesn’t lie.”

Three.

Two.

One.

Now that Prince has caught on to your behavior he blurts out incoherent sentences, pointing at you and Noel. Happy with how things are turning out, you get off Noel’s back and pull him down so you can kiss his cheek.

“I’ll see ya, cher!” and you are off to Ego’s cave of egoism. All the while leaving behind a stuttering Chris Prince, a shocked Bastard Munchen (who have been watching the whole thing play out), and an unbothered Noel Noa. Dear.

When you pop into Ego’s cave, you give him all of the data you have collected and what he and the masters should be looking out for.

“Alright. You can leave now.”

“Awe! Don’t be like that cuz! I did all this work and rearranged my schedule for the next two weeks. You should at least thank me.” You pout.

“You’re getting paid are you not?”

“But that’s not the same ~ C’mon! Give your little cousin a hug! You haven’t even congratulated me on my engagement to Noel!” You open your arms out and slowly get closer to Ego. You are determined to get your hug from him whether he likes it or not.

“Another step and I’ll fire you.” Ego warns. Seriously, how the fuck are you two related. He swears that you are adopted cause there is no way in hell.

“Oh, shut up and hug me you bastard!” And that is how you and Ego end up running around in the room like small children. An older brother who is trying to get away from his annoying and unwanted younger sister. A younger sister purposefully annoying her straightedged, older brother. A perfect duo if you say so. In the midst of your chase, one of you accidentally presses the button for the intercom that connects to the entire building, prompting everyone in it to listen to your pleas and Ego’s cursing.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Ego and that chick are related!”

“Are they okay?”

Are some of the few questions the players have until they hear, “Aren’t you excited to have Noel as an in-law?”

Noel swears on his entire career that the whole building shakes when everyone yells, “What?!”

A/N: How’d ya like my Noel Noa story? I wrote for him cause there’s not a lot fanfiction of him. For my readers who have been patiently waiting for another Kylian Mbappe story, I haven’t forgotten about you! I can’t say when the update will be, but I hope it’ll be before September ends. I know it is a long wait but the story I’m working on is longer than I anticipated.

#noel noa #blue lock #x reader #fanfiction #noel noa x reader #bllk #blue lock x reader #been binging the manga recently #blue lock may be one of my favorites so far

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sunnnfish · 6 months

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oh my GOD where do I begin. Uhhhmmm. Okay. So Love & Passion is a chapter is the Sasaki and Miyano: First Years novel. Every chapter in that book is from a different characters perspective, and Love & Passion is from Tashiro’s POV. It is mostly about tashiros first year of high school and his joining of the ping pong club. Here look at the cover illustration

Going under a cut now due to exceeding length.

So like. There’s like. A Lot. Certifiably. Especially if you’re a tashiro enthusiast like me. Phenomenal characterization and narration that is usually very fun and lighthearted and tashiro-esque!

Gonzaburo Tashiro, first-year. At the moment, I’m facing an insurmountable barrier.

^ First lines of the chapter. He’s continuously very silly and like. Dramatic narrator. Yknow.

And such a personality lends itself to awfully poignant lines of crippling sincerity and simplicity that make me bawl my eyes out.

I don’t get it. What happened to the loneliness?

But of course tashiro doesn’t exist in a void to we have our delightful cast of his dear friends and acquaintances! Middle school bestie shirahama, who gets him into This Whole Mess (I’ll get to that later). Dearest Hanzawa Masato, who he makes various umh. Comments about.

“Game, set!” announced the referee, a second-year.

Man, he sounds so cool saying that.

…

As I stood there, drooping mentally and physically, I was approached by the guy who had refereed our match—the club’s vice president, Hanzawa.

And last but CERTAINLY not least. Dearest dearest previous president of the ping pong club!!!!

There he is. The saulty little binch on the right.

And if you’re wondering why we call him that. Well. He’s never given a name. Ha ha! But he has such a presence. The way he speaks and moves and looks feels so intentionally intense and like. designed. He’s so on purpose. Makes me wonder if we’ll ever get a spinoff of hanzawa masato[GETS SHOT] ha ha sorry who said that. Anyways

Dearest previous president (prev pres for short) and hanzawa torment poor tashiro. Endlessly. From the moment he joined the club—which was kind of an accident (he and shirahama joined just to check it out but eventually wanted to quit, but to quit you had to win a ping pong match. Shirahama won his match against a newbie easy peasy. Tashiro got matched up against the president of the club himself. Obviously couldn’t win and thus forced to join the club permanently)—from the moment he joined the club, prev pres and hanzawa are like. All over him. Obsessed with him. He tries to skip practice but both of them come drag him out of him classroom to come practice.

But despite his desire to not really be there, he takes club so seriously. He’s so sincere about it. He knows everyone else there is really passionate about ping pong so he cant let himself be the odd man out and rain on everyone’s parade. And this paradox—being so avoidant of the club but coming to care about it and bond with other members—really catches the eye of dearest prev pres.

“I thought Tashiro’d be spoiling for a fight, but he isn’t. That’s what makes him a genius worthy of my inner circle. Remember that, Hanzawa, ‘cause when I graduate, you’re gonna be the next club president.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I think that guy might be a good successor to you!”

Dearest tashiro overhears this and promptly realizes the two freaks he’s met will not let him out of this. Ever. But he tells himself he’ll decline the offer. Surely they’ll find “someone more appropriate. Someone more serious about the club, maybe.”

And this is what like. Gets to the heart of this chapter. Love & Passion. AND REALLY QUICK touching on the fact that all the other chapters are named in ways that refer to specific characters. They’re all in pairs, and the chapter cover art reflects that too. She & Kuresawa. Miyano & Kuresawa. Sasaki & Miyano. Senior & Junior. SO IT MAKES YOU THINK. Who is love and who is passion. Anyways Tashiro meets and knows these various people around him and they’re all so passionate about what they do and what they like. Shirahama ends up joining the basketball club and gets really into it. Miyano and kuresawa are passionate about their books and clubs. Hanzawa and previous president are passionate about ping pong. Tashiro is passionate about… ? he doesn’t really know.

We so rarely know what other people’s passions are.

“Are you into anything, Tashiro?” Ms. Toyoda asked, and I flinched.

“Uh, me? I dunno. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.” I racked my brain for anything I might be passionate about, but nothing came to mind.”

Later in the chapter he participates in a ping pong tournament and its like. He’s like the rush of it all and cheering for him teammates and stuff but. He doesn’t cry like everyone else when he loses.

Still, when I saw players from other school practically weeping when they lost, I couldn’t help wondering: What made them so different from me? I didn’t have the passion within me to cry when I lost.

Maybe that’s what real passion looks like. What did I have, then?

…

But something held me back, a sense that ‘passion’ was reserved for something you really, truly loved. Something you couldn’t replace, couldn’t even dream of giving up.

Ping-pong isn’t exactly the hill I would die on. But then again…

And he kinda goes through this arc where its like. Im not passionate about this like everyone else. But it has given me a goal to work towards.

And amidst all that We also get into what tashiro gets up to outside of school. Namely, he frequents a bath house where hes become the grandchild of all the old people that also frequent the place. And he also practices ping pong with his new grandpas, because he totally doesnt care about ping pong. He just. Wants to win. So he can beat the president and leave. Yeah thats it.

But he never does get around to beating the president before he has to graduate. Queue the moment that makes me the most insane

“So you’re never coming back, President?” I said.

“I ain’t President anymore.”

“Not the point! I haven’t beat you yet…” I clenched my fists, a yawning, lonely feeling of loss opening within me.

“Ahh. You mean the thing about getting to quit if you win? The next president’ll keep that promise. Dont’ you worry.”

“What?”

I don’t get it. What happened to the loneliness?

The new president—in other words, Hanzawa.

This like. Special relationship hes had with the president. This game of cat and mouse remains unfulfilled. And he feels loss and he feels lonely about it. But at the same time he can renew that relationship with Hanzawa. And it suddenly doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. And its the simplicity and bluntness of this whole exchange is what really sells it—tashiro is not particularly eloquent. He’s brash and blunt but extremely observant. And thats reflected in his chapters. He recognizes the ways other people interact with the world and their expressions and language. And its so like. Factual to him. It is the way it is. And that observancy is applied to himself too. This feels lonely. Oh. This doesn’t feel lonely anymore. But he doesnt necessarily have the self-reflection to understand why he feels certain things. Anyways.

And amidst all THAT theres these few moments where he gets this really weird adjacency to queerness. Like. If i had a nickel for every moment he asked about queer people, id have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but its strange it happened twice.

First one:

Miyano’s hobby was man-on-man romance comics. I sometimes wondered about that (like, even though he’s a guy?),

Second one, where hes relaxing in the bathhouse common area and is listening to the old ladies talk about yuri.

Finally, I asked, “What’s yuri?”

“You don’t know? It’s stories of love between girls!”

“Huh, Haven’t heard of that one before…” I guess Ms. Toyoda and her friends had been into reading that sort of thing many years ago, and now their interest was being rekindled thanks to their grandchildren. “I didn’t realize women liked stories about girl-on-girl love, too…”

And its like. ITS NOT MUCH I KNOW. But it really is so weird it happened twice. Why did author Hachijo Kotoko do this. What does it mean. AND THEN IT ALL COMES BACK TO THE TITLE. Love & Passion.

I may not have that burning love that Miyano or Ms. Toyoda have, I thought.

Like. Specifically calling out the love miyano and Ms. Toyoda have. For queer stories. It sits so strange with me. Oddly meaningful but i dont know what it means.

Anyways. There’s also a really good shirahama and tashiro moment that i could get into but. I wont. Yet.

Anyways again. All that writing and i feel like i haven’t even touched on everything. Did not talk nearly enough about hanzawa’s presence but like. It’s very specific and hard to explain. But i also have an incessant desire to just quote like the entire chapter. So just go try to read it if you can. I unfortunately don’t know of any sources online but who knows. The book also has a second tashiro pov chapter so like. Cannot recommend it enough. I love tashiro gonzaburou so so much. He’s everything to me. Peace and love on planet tashiro.

#sasaki to miyano #tashiro gonzaburou #sasaki and miyano: first years #sasaki and miyano #Love & Passion #sunnfish.hzsr #sunnfish.txt #sunnfish.ask

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icybluepenguin · 5 months

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Mistletoe

Summary: Astarion wants to kiss you. Luckily it's Midwinter, and he's come up with a plan that will definitely work this time. For the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 prompt "mistletoe"

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav(reader)

Tags: Astarion is bad at planning, friendly chaste kisses from the party, shenanigans, silly idea and silly story, fluff with maybe some feels if you squint

Note: This is just a silly idea that made me smile because this man can't plan his way out of a paper bag. Just winging it the whole way. I've been really struggling with my mental health and my brain is screaming at me that I should not post this- but I don't listen to my brain, it's not the boss of me! Make bad art, have fun with it, that's what I say. Hopefully it makes someone smile.

Astarion wanted to kiss you.

Ever since you both had agreed to just being friends, he couldn't stop thinking about you and what he didn't have.

Being friends was nice, it was. He liked that there were no expectations. He liked that you still always made time for him. But he didn't want to be your friend the way Gale or Karlach was your friend. You listened to their problems, you hugged them, you told them they were good– and that was fine. But he wanted more.

He wanted to be special to you. He wanted you to be special to him. He knew you well enough now to know that the nice part of “being friends” would also be part of “being together” in a way that wasn't just sex, but was care and connection and closeness.

He wanted to kiss you again so badly, it was hard to think of anything else. To feel your breath on his lips before he pressed them to yours, to be held in your arms because you cared for him, and to know that if he wanted, you'd stop.

But he didn't know how to ask for it. Not after the conversation about not wanting to have sex. Kissing normally led to sex, and he didn't know if you would want to kiss him if it didn't. If he were really honest with himself– which he tried not to be– he wasn't sure how he would feel about it either. But he wanted it.

So he hatched what he considered a devious, genius plan.

It was hard to tell from the weather, but Karlach had been reminding everyone that it was nearly Midwinter. The ground was clear of snow and there was only the faintest nip in the air, but the calendar didn't lie. She had started decorating around the camp, making garlands for everyone's tents and trying to cook holiday treats over the campfire.

The plan began when it was his turn to gather firewood. That was already his least favorite camp chore and whoever's turn it was to go with him usually made it even more unbearable. It was dirty and heavy and the other person always got upset when he stopped to drink a squirrel or three. This time, though, his partner was Halsin, who was more willing to do all the hard work and never chided Astarion for being what he called an “apex predator.”

He was doing his best to ignore the druid's rambling about nature, until he heard the word “mistletoe.”

“I have not seen much in this area, but it certainly is appropriate for the season. It is feeding off this aspen, but it seems the tree is still thriving, for now.” Halsin patted the tree as if congratulating it for doing a good job.

“Look, a stick. Do be a dear and pick that up,” Astarion drawled, examining his nails for imperfections.

He marked the location in his head and resumed tuning out Halsin's lecture about parasitic plants.

He snuck back later to harvest some of the mistletoe. This would be perfect. You wouldn't suspect a thing, he'd get to kiss you, and then it would be easier to talk about what he wanted.

It wasn't until he got back to camp that he remembered you weren't staying in an inn or house with convenient doorways and roof beams to hang the mistletoe from.

Sulking in his tent, he glared at the handful of mistletoe on his floor. He couldn't just hang it in his tent, that would be too obvious. He couldn't hang it in your tent for the same reason– and he didn't want anyone else kissing you.

He began wandering around camp with his head craned back, looking for places to hang mistletoe from. Which was fine until he tripped over Scratch and you giggled at the way the dog kept trying to lick his face while he was in the dirt. His stomach swooped into knots at the sound. Gods, he wanted to kiss you right there.

There were a few branches overhanging the area they'd agreed on for weapons care and sharpening, after Lae'zel kept grinding her sword at all hours of the morning right next to the other tents.

He waited until dark. As quick and dexterous as he was, he wasn't the best at climbing trees. Not a lot of opportunities in the middle of the city. Not to mention living as a slave to a deranged sadist, he thought.

He only fell out three times, which he considered a pretty decent showing– as long as no one was watching.

In the morning, when it looked like you were getting your weapon, he pulled out his daggers and sat under the tree, making a show of honing them.

He stood gracefully when he heard footsteps. “Hello, dar-”

“Oh, Fangs, look! Mistletoe!” Karlach had him in a tight hug before he could even think to say anything, lifting him off his feet like he weighed nothing. She laid a happy kiss on his forehead and put him down. “I wonder who put that up there. Guess I'm not the only one looking forward to Midwinter!”

“I guess not,” Astarion managed, smoothing his clothes down and picking up the daggers he'd dropped in surprise. He felt oddly warm and cared for. It made him defensive. “It certainly wasn't me. I don't need a plant to get someone to kiss my gorgeous face.”

It must just be the fire of Karlach's engine making him so warm, he told himself as he sauntered into the woods- so she wouldn't see him gently touch the spot she'd kissed.

When he got back, ready to wait for you, the mistletoe was gone.

That night, he only fell out once hanging another sprig. But he really hoped he wouldn't have to climb this damn tree again. And he was going to make sure of it.

It was easy to steal your weapon– you really were too heavy of a sleeper– taking it into the forest and slamming it into trees and rocks to dull it. Now you'd have to come sharpen it.

He waited until he saw you come out of your tent holding it, a confused look on your face as you ran your finger down the ruined edge.

Taking position back at the grinding station, he hid a smug grin. Now, he'd get to kiss you and–

“Hello, Astarion.”

Wyll, dammit. Sounding very friendly and annoying.

Astarion glanced at him. He was carrying your weapon.

“Tav asked me to sharpen this for them while they help Gale with something,” Wyll explained. “Oh, is that mistletoe? Karlach's certainly been busy.”

Wyll put down your weapon and gave him courtly bow. Astarion watched warily, but was completely shocked when Wyll took his hand and kissed his knuckles with a light tenderness that slammed him back into a life he'd thought he'd forgotten completely. Bright, colorful parties, gaining favor with powerful people, the polite rituals of small talk…

“Are you going to ask me to dance next?” Astarion said sharply, shaking off the memory.

“I wager you'd be amazing at it, if I did.” Wyll dropped his hand and picked up your weapon again with a knowing smile.

A harsh tsk interrupted whatever Astarion might have said back.

“What are you two doing, this is a place to sharpen your weapons, not your tongues.”

Astarion sighed.

“What is that plant doing above your head, Astarion?”

“That is mistletoe, Lae'zel,” Wyll said patiently. “It’s tradition around Midwinter for anyone standing under it to get kissed.”

Lae'zel took three steps closer to Astarion, at a worrying speed. “Kissing?” she asked, deadpan.

Oh no. Astarion stepped back, raising his hand in front of his mouth.

She tore down the mistletoe and ground it under her heel. “A distraction. We have other concerns to focus on.”

He exhaled.

This wasn't working at all. Here he had thought he was setting the perfect trap and-

Oh wait. A trap. A trap. It wouldn't be that hard to modify a trap to swing the mistletoe overhead when you tripped it. He was excellent at setting traps. Much better than climbing trees.

After finding a few animals to drink, he sat down to make his kissing trap while everyone else was asleep.

He set it up close to camp, but not in the main area where just anyone would trigger it. You took a morning stroll to stretch your limbs each day and you would walk across it it when you did.

Astarion sat just beyond the trap, pretending to read his book. Very casual.

He heard the trigger snap and was on his feet in an instant. Still very casual, he told himself.

His saunter froze upon seeing the distinct purple robes.

“Ah, look. Mistletoe. You know, the berries of the mistletoe were once thought of as symbols of male fertility.” Gale chuckled, inviting Astarion into the awkward subject. “How they became associated with Midwinter is quite the mystery, though. I suppose a fertility symbol becoming a romantic signifier isn't so unusual-”

Astarion couldn't take much more of this. He had to get Gale out of the way before you walked by, which could be any minute. He could already see Scratch in the distance and the mutt usually accompanied you.

“It is even considered bad luck by some to ignore the tradition to kiss under the mistletoe. Although-”

Without thinking more about it, Astarion surged forward and pressed his mouth to Gale's. The man had surprisingly soft lips, contrasted by the prickle of his mustache. Astarion jerked back, startled by his own actions.

He was slightly mollified by the pink in Gale's cheeks and the way the man mumbled, “I suppose we will not be having bad luck, then,” without meeting his eyes.

Scratch bounded towards them, breaking the tense moment. Astarion looked, but couldn't see you anywhere. The dog barely stopped for a pet before he was sniffing his way towards Astarion's abandoned book.

“Hey, no! Dog! Dog, stop that!” he snapped, rushing after him. Scratch’d eaten more than one book around camp already; he seemed to have an insatiable appetite for them.

Astarion nearly dove onto the book, trying to get Scratch to let go of the cover without tearing it.

Clutching his book to his chest and out of reach of Scratch, he returned to his trap. “I'm not kissing you, don't get excited,” he muttered to the dog.

It looked like he wasn't going to be kissing anyone– the mistletoe was gone. Again.

He dashed back to his tent to grab more. He still had time. He could get it all set up again before you walked by, he was certain. He was fast.

He rushed through laying the ropes and tying the knots, crouching on the ground. He hadn't even seen you yet this morning, maybe you were still asleep.

He straightened up to examine his work, taking a step back.

The unnoticed coil of rope around his ankle tightened and yanked him forward and up before he could even yelp.

So much for no bad luck.

He swung around, just far enough off the ground to make getting untangled a challenge. He scowled. Maybe he should have slowed down. Just a bit. The only saving grace was that you were still nowhere to be seen.

As he rotated around, a pair of sandals came into view.

“Funny, I didn't picture you as one who likes to be tied up,” Shadowheart said with soft disdain.

“Been picturing me tying you up?” he tried to sound as sexy as possible while hanging upside down. ”I'll do it if you say please. Setting you loose, however, that's another thing.”

The sound she made would have hurt his feelings, if he didn't feel the same way.

Shadowheart picked something off the ground and then held it over his head by one leaf pinched in her thumb and forefinger.

“This isn't what it looks like-” he started.

She rolled her eyes. “I'm sure. Whatever it is, it looks ridiculous.” She dropped the mistletoe on his face. “Save this for someone who doesn't mind fangs.”

“So, you're not going to help me down, then?” he called as she walked away, an irritated pout in his voice.

It didn't really take him long to free himself. At least that's what he repeated over and over as he stalked off into the woods to find something to eat. Killing something would soothe his bleeding pride.

Later that evening, as the party sat around the fire, he watched you take a bite of a burnt lump that Karlach called a cookie. It looked dreadful. But you smiled as you chewed slowly, telling her it tasted like cinnamon. Always kind and thoughtful- even as you downed a huge swallow of wine.

You were so stupidly nice, he couldn't stand it. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to taste that wine on your tongue.

Forget the plan, it clearly wasn't going to work. When had his plans ever worked with you? He snuck away from the fire. It took mere minutes to hang some mistletoe from your tent and return to the group as if he'd never been gone.

He walked with you when everyone headed to their bedrolls, making sure no one else was close enough to steal a kiss from you.

He was practically preening with satisfaction by the time you saw the mistletoe. He was going to kiss you and you would hold him and-

“Oh no, I'm so sorry, I don't know how this got here.” You yanked down the mistletoe, gripping it in your hand like he wouldn't notice it if you just held it tight enough. “I've been taking this stuff down all over camp.”

Astarion stared. “You've been taking down my mistletoe?”

“Yes, I– what do you mean, your mistletoe?”

“Why have you been taking it down!”

You threw the crumpled plant to the side. “I didn't want anyone to force you into something you didn't want to do. It seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I've kissed everyone in this camp trying to get you under this damn plant!” His voice was rising too high.

“I am so confused,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “What are you talking about?”

“It's Midwinter. There's mistletoe. It's quite simple, really,” Astarion covered his embarrassment with condescension. “Kissing, my dear. It's the traditional response.”

You looked at him until he wanted to squirm away or lash out to get you to stop. He knew you were too damn perceptive.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he sighed, resigned to having to tell the truth.

“I thought you wanted to just be friends.”

“Well…” Astarion waved his hand vaguely, “Yes? I do? But I also want to be… more than friends. Together. With you. But in a way that doesn't involve sex?” He tilted his head, touching the curls on the back of his neck, feeling extremely vulnerable. “If that's something you… might consider…”

“Oh, Astarion. I would love to love you in any way you want.” You looked at him with a mix of fondness and impatience. “Now kiss me, you idiot.”

He put his hands on your cheeks, drawing you close. Your breath warmed his lips before he touched them to yours. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he'd imagined, mouth opening for him. His tongue grazed over yours, soft and gentle, the heat of you seeping into him.

It was everything he wanted.

Master Post

#bg3holidayfluffle23 #Astarion #Astarion fic #astarion x tav #Astarion x reader #My writing

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alovesongtheywrote · 7 months

Note

holy fuckin shit girl nighmare academia 🤌🤌🤌

thank god for that person who asked for a pt.2, but I must ask for a pt.3 loll

♥ Summary: here you go, 1000 words of reid scheming against the reader with the help of some familiar faces! [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: morgan and garcia being morgan and garcia, vague mentions of spencer wanting kids, threats of bodily harm at the very end

♥ A/N: yeah, ik the last one of these came out like. today. but im having a lot of fun, so until that stops. have fun with the enemies to lovers professor au

♥ Word Count: 1200

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Alright, my sweet brain boy, I’ve got the dirt on the Doctor- not you, the other Doctor. You know what I mean.”

Spencer nodded- then he, in all of his genius, remembered that Penelope could not see him.

“What did you find?” he asked, pulling his legs up on his office chair. He hadn’t left the university grounds after his fight with you and his call with Garcia. You had left. He was sure of it. His office window gave him a great view of the parking lot, and hence, a great view of you leaving. Reid, on the other hand, had stayed inside his office waiting for this second call.

“Well, it looks like you may have some competition in the doctorate department. Doctor (L/N),” she stressed your title, “Also has three PhDs- one in criminology, one in law, and one in- get this- English Literature. They’ve written a few really good articles, mostly on crime stuff, but also on Pride and Prejudice. And oh, their takes on Elizabeth and Darcy- it’s enough to make a girl swoon.”

“Okay,” Spencer sighed. None of this would help him get back at you- most of it was knowledge he could attain with a casual google search, “What else do you have for me?”

“Well, our dear Doctor is active in the community. They help ex-cons get GEDs in their spare time, they donate to various charities and nonprofits, they support the local arts. They've got a lot of hobbies, they enjoy Halloween a lot- oh, and their mom is super proud of them.”

“What else, Garcia?”

“They have two cats, a couple siblings, a few nieces and nephews- it looks like they’re good with kids.”

“This isn’t relevant,” Spencer groaned, trying to hide his frustration. He was looking for ways to get under your skin the way you had gotten under his. He didn’t need to know every nice thing about you.

“Hey, you want kids, don’t you pretty boy?” A deep voice that was very much not Garcia’s came over the line.

“Morgan is here, by the way,” at the very least, Penelope had the decency to sound a little embarrassed.

“I can hear that. How long has he been listening?”

“Long enough to hear that you and this Mystery Professor would make a good match. I mean, where else are you gonna find someone with three PhDs and a face like that?”

Spencer could hear Garcia’s gasp, even though she had pulled away from the phone. When she spoke again, her voice was playful, “We’re looking for him, not for you. What would Savannah say? What should I say?”

“Easy baby girl, I’m just letting our boy know that I approve.”

“Hold on,” Spencer’s voice broke through the bickering of his former co-workers, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I am not interested in (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Oh? Then whyfore the background check, boy genius?”

“Is something wrong, Reid?”

“No, no, it’s nothing- it’s not like they’re a threat to my safety or anyone’s safety. They’re just…”

“Just what, kid?”

Spencer drew in a sharp breath, trying to keep his cool. He had to be calm- collected. He couldn’t let Derek and Penelope know that you were so deep under his skin, inside the tissue of his brain, that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t keep his mind from running back to the image of your face, glaring at him as you took the typewriter from his hands. They would get the wrong idea. The entire wrong idea. So, Spencer had to remain cool.

He immediately failed.

“They’re just really fucking annoying, okay!?”

“Damn, kid! Okay! What did they do, tell you that Doctor Who was just okay?”

“No, you don’t get it-” Spencer hissed, flopping further into his chair as he proceeded to rant about the entire typewriter thing. He quoted you word for word, too- of course he did, eidetic memory. Once he finished, Morgan and Garcia seemed to take on a new understanding of the situation.

“I see! This wasn’t a love call, but one for information!! A stockpile of knowledge for devious pranks- that is why you called, right? You need info for getting back at the lovely Professor?”

“Yes-! They aren’t lovely, but yes.”

“Kid, anyone who can make you write emails is lovely in Garcia’s book.”

“Listen to your local Morgan, Reid- now, do you have a revenge plot already?”

“Sort of?” Spencer shared his plans with Garcia, smiling to himself at the sound of her laugh. His brand of humor didn’t usually get that reaction.

“Sounds perfect, Reid- I can help with that, but I’m gonna need a secure connection, Dr. (L/N)’s email address, and everything you know about the benefits of handwritten notes.”

Once the plan was fully fleshed out, Spencer hung up the phone and finally, finally made his way out of his office with a rare spring in his step. His plan was set. The trap was in place. Your beloved technology would be your downfall. As he stepped onto the Metro, he had to keep from cackling like an overdramatic villain. He was at a high point, and he really didn’t want to be arrested for causing a disturbance.

Meanwhile, back at Quantico, Morgan and Garica looked at each other, the now silent phone placed between them.

“So, those two are-”

“They are perfect for each other, yes.”

“We’ve gotta help him.”

“Absolutely. Hey, once they get together, do you think he’ll introduce me? I want to talk to Dr. (L/N) about their Pride and Prejudice hot takes.”

“Careful, Garcia. We’re shopping for him, not for you.”

“Hey, I just appreciate a person who can see the true nuances in one Fitzwilliam Darcy! And I wanna know which film adaptation is their favourite.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Rossi’s voice came from the door of Garcia’s office, “The rest of us have been ready to go for fifteen minutes. What’s the hold up?”

“Nothing, Rossi.”

“We just found a perfect match for one Spencer Reid.”

“Really? Interesting. Tell me more later. Let’s go.”

Two days later, you opened your PowerPoint slides only to find a presentation about the benefits of handwritten notes. Everything you had in place for that day was gone. All that was in its place was a genuinely well-crafted presentation about how writing notes by hand was better for attention retention and memorization.

Honestly, you couldn’t even get that mad. It was a good presentation.

Still, you had a reputation to maintain.

You bit your lip and crossed your arms, becoming the picture of barely contained rage. You took a deep breath, turning to your students and slapping a strained smile across your lips.

“Forgive me, my lovely students, but given this sudden turn of events, I’m just going to cancel class for today. The correct notes will be on the class website later.”

You made your way to the door, leaving all your belongings behind in your haste, “Enjoy your afternoons, I’m going to go stab Dr. Spencer Reid. In the throat. Have a good day!”

A few students gave quiet, confused farewells. Others leaned over to each other and whispered, “Stabbing is a sex thing, right?”

Technically, they were correct.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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yandereloversblog · 2 years

Note

can i request for yandere mikey being submissive for the reader because he’s paranoid that she might break up with him

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 "𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲" 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: 𝚃𝚘𝚔𝚢𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚛𝚘 "𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢" 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚘

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝, 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚢 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚝

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I was pondering this idea for a long while and combined it with a flirty/playful darling cuz I really wanna see Mikey with someone like that :') not to mention this is more fluffy because I need smth lucky to help me get through the next two days. School is getting rough this week so I hope this'll be my good luck charm ♡

You were Mikey's classmate, unfortunate enough to be paired with him for a project which all but confirmed your suspicions about the teacher hating you. After all, to pair you up with someone who doesn't even come to class, is confirmed to be the leader of a rising delinquent gang and a genius in martial arts is basically the teacher saying that he doesn't want you to pass his class with hopes you get beat up or cursed out.

'Maybe the asshole hates me cuz I rejected his advances.' You clicked your tongue in annoyance, disgusted when remembering what happened when he pulled you out of class because he needed "help with something", that something being touches that lingered for too long and made your skin crawl in disgust. Once you talked back for such predators behavior he insulted you, now he has resorted to making sure you didn't pass biology class.

"It should be somewhere around here..." Thankfully finding out where Mikey lived was easy enough.

You just had to ask directions to the Sano Dojo -because the teacher didn't bother giving you Mikey's address- and everyone pointed the way you needed to go to. It's okay for everyone to know where you live when you can beat them up even in your sleep huh?

Relief washed over your anxiety once seeing the blond haired male just resting by his bike outside, if the tied back hair wasn't a dead give away the taller blond by his side with the tattoo on the side of his head was the cherry on top.

You took a deep breath and approached closer to the two, it was okay right? You've heard somewhere Mikey doesn't hit girls.

"Sano-san." Mikey stopped talking to Draken once you called him, his eyes were the only thing to move; glancing over as if to acknowledge the presence of who called him. He didn't recognize you, obviously because he never comes to class to begin with "Hi, I'm [Y/N] [L/N], I'm in your class." You glanced up at Draken and did a slight bow as if to acknowledge him too "The biology teacher wanted me to give you this, you and I are partnered up for a project." Mikey gave you a stare before looking at the paper, giving a slight huff then soon after mumbling "Don't wanna do it."

You blinked, amused by the infamous childish behavior and how his cheeks puffed up as if he was pouting "I don't wanna do it either Sano-san but-"

"Just call me Mikey."

"I don't wanna do it either Mikey-kun but he'll fail both of us if we don't at least hand it in." You replied casually while giving into his demand, ignoring the pressure from both him and Draken looking at you, they really were intimidating. But you didn't want to do the project alone, you were too lazy to "You don't wanna make a girl do all the work, right?" So you gave the shorter delinquent a smile, giggling a little once the nonchalant expression broke down into a full pout "Guess not..." And he took the paper, giving it an annoyed stare while you internally celebrated for thus achievement.

"Thank you! How about we meet up tomorrow after school to discuss more since you seem busy right now, sorry for the inconvenience." You glanced at Draken as well who had remained quiet through the entire exchange, he just shook his head "It wasn't an inconvenience." Reassuring you with a neutral tone.

You nodded, thankful the two didn't outright chase you out. Mikey shrugged and shoved the paper in his jacket's pocket "Ken-chin remind me for tomorrow." He grinned at Draken from over his shoulder before looking back at you, the casual smile more welcoming.

"Then, make sure not to fall in love with me while we're together." Mikey playfully teased with a shiteating grin, earning an annoyed glare from Draken but you couldn't help snickering at his sentence, giving Mikey a bright, award winning smile instead of the usual deadpan expression he was exposed to when he used that line -that Shinichiro taught him-

"You know, for being the commander of a gang you're not that confident." You grinned at the blond, tilting your head "Hasn't it crossed your mind that I might already be in love with you, Mikey-kun?"

Draken blinked from the unusual reaction, lips lightly twitching into an amused smirk when noticing how surprised Mikey was at your response, his face suddenly turning a bright pink 'Cute~' You giggled when he opened his mouth but was left a stuttering mess instead "See you tomorrow after school." You reminded the other and turned to leave, only to glance back when hearing Mikey mumble something to Draken "D-do you think it's a date, Ken-chin?" The sight of the feared Mikey acting so bashful caused you to grin "Depends, do you want it to be a date?"

Mikey flinched, snapping to look at you with widened dark eyes, his face might as well have started steaming from how the blood rushed to his cheeks and even heated up his ears, embarrassed from the fact that you heard him and despite wanting to stop you, you had already left -to save him even more embarrassment-

'[Y/N]...' Mikey took a deep breath before looking back at the crumbled paper you had given him. You were in his class right? Good. He'd be able to find you easily... Which class was he in again?

Now Draken was used to flirting, he grew around it and could tell you were just being playful, probably to lighten the awkward mood set around you three. Not that he minded, besides it was refreshing to see someone act normal around Mikey and not be scared of neither him nor Draken. Either way the tattooed male knew you just messed around a little.

Not Mikey, man started to believe you did actually have a crush on him- no, not crush. You said love right?

He stayed awake a lot longer that night, replaying your short conversation while turning around in his bed all flustered. How could you catch him off guard like that on your first meeting? It was unfair...

To Draken's surprise, he didn't need to remind Mikey tomorrow morning. The blond had actually woken up earlier -which Mikey seemed to regret- so instead of waiting for you after school Mikey actually showed up to class- after lunchbreak but nevertheless, he showed up, which was a shock to most.

"Wow, you actually came to class." You gave Mikey an amused grin when seeing him and Draken walk through the door, well, your name was called out loudly by Mikey the second Mikey set sight on you.

Without a second thought, you easily approached the two in contrast to the rest of your classmates who quieted down at the apperance of the delinquents. Whoever was close moving a few desks away and some who were caught staring between you and Mikey having to look away when Draken gave them an annoyed glance.

"Yup." Mikey on the other hand was smiling, eyes remaining only on you with a satisfied hum once you came over to him. Simply greeting both of them, which Draken merely gave a nod back, before looking back at Mikey.

"That's strange Mikey-kun, did you come just to see me?" Your question immediately had Mikey's cheeks turn a light pink, but he grinned back at you.

Hmph! Mikey practiced what he'd say once he sees you again in that restless night, you weren't going to get him flustered again like yesterday "Hmm maybe, you can say that but I just happened to wake up earlier than normal. You should feel honored [Y/N]-chin, it's your lucky day." Obviously you had a crush- no, you loved him and Mikey was willing to give you a chance because he was gentle like that -it was the first ever "confession" he has received-, even gave you a special nickname.

"[Y/N]-chin?" Raising a brow, you reached closer to Mikey's face, apperantly a move he didn't calculate you'd do because the blond froze up, cheeks blazing up to a bright red once you lightly ran your fingers through the end of his blond hair, the soft hum leaving your lips caused Mikey's heart to thump faster than usual "That's cute, should I call you Jiro-kun then to make it fair?" You giggled, showing the leaf you removed and walked past him to throw it away in the trash.

Nobody missed how red Mikey's face became. Not even Draken could ignore it.

So now everybody knew Mikey liked you- even you, it was clear as day. Yet you didn't make the situation any better whenever Mikey started putting his claim on you in the most obvious ways possible.

The blond started snatching you away when you talked with your friends, boldly huffing and glaring at them as he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, especially if there were guys in the group "[Y/N]-chin will play with me now, don't bother us." Your poor friends had to cower away as Mikey dragged you away- as you let him drag you away back to where Draken stood so you could leave "I didn't take you as one to be this clingy Mikey-kun, it's cute~ I don't mind playing with you." Adding to Mikey's growing affection -and Draken's happiness- your lack of resistance and willingness to play along with him always had Mikey putty in your hands and actually listen -Draken gives you flags to carry around just in case now-

Speaking of flags and food, Mikey began sharing his snacks with you, even feeding you which was something unheard of when it came to Mikey, he usually was the one to steal food when nobody was looking but here you were "Try this, it's good!" Staring at the snacks he gave you, dorayaki he had taken a bite off or a spoonful of parfait he had eaten from before you couldn't help but to snicker "Hmm... Did you want an indirect kiss?" The tease naturally rolled out of your tongue, quickly taking advantage of his frozen state from your words and leaning closer to take a bite of the offering "You were right, it's good~" Mikey stared at you in disbelief, his hand twitching a little before you heard a quiet command "F-feed me too." And as usual you obliged.

Mikey invited you to a Toman meeting once, having you by his side all the time and if you didn't know any better you'd assume he was showing you off, which he was. It was clear "This is [Y/N], she's my friend so make sure to treat her nicely or I'll kill you." You teasingly gave Mikey a nudge to gain his attention "Just a friend? Haven't you already slept in my bed Mikey-kun? I'm hurt~" You reminded the blond of when he fell asleep during the project but it was always worth seeing his face turn a bright red. Your response had gotten the first division captain, Baji? To bark out a laugh once he saw how Mikey reacted. Of course Mikey had no intention of denying what you said, still holding your hand while being a flustered mess.

You weren't going to deny the growing affection for the blond, maybe it was the reason you didn't have a problem when a lot of your friends came over to try and confirm some rumors "Did you tell everyone we're dating?" You asked one day while walking home from school with him "Yup." The other answered with a proud grin, you couldn't help but to sigh helplessly while reaching up and gently running your fingers through his hair "You're really cute Mikey, but at least officially ask me out first."

"I have! I literally give all my snacks to you, we're married at this point." Mikey pouted in response, leaning onto your touch without hesitation and it made you smile warmly at the vulnerable display of affection in his eyes.

You ended up cupping his face with that hand, rubbing your thumb on Mikey's cheek, the blond's pout instantly went away and you were caught staring at Mikey's loving gaze "Oh, so you already want to marry me? What, did you think of what our kid would look like too?"

You laughed softly at how Mikey's face heated up to the usual red, previous soft smile shaky from the sudden question "Y-yeah what about it!?" And a bold admit of what he thought you two would do in the future, he yanked his face away from your hold and with the same puff of his cheeks he gave you a light glare "I WILL marry you."

"Okay."

"I will!"

"I believe you, Manjiro."

"..." You smiled when Mikey quieted down from hearing his actual name, his head tilting down and your heart squeezed from the unusual shy expression, he was biting his lower lip ever so lightly while staring at the ground with half lidded eyes.

'Damn it, I love her so much.'

Mikey's shoulders lightly jerked up when your hand reached out to hold his, instantly intertwining your fingers. Mikey squeezed back and a genuine happy smile stretched up his lips.

It was supposed to stay like that; Now Mikey is in a panic, you had changed.

He tried acting softer, being better, even asked Mitsuya, Emma and the others for some tips on dates or gifts.

You were the one to usually initiate affectionate in the beginning of your relationship, whether it be witty remarks or flirty responses.

But now Mikey had to do it alone and he hated it.

His throat would choke back a desperate whine when realizing you weren't even listening when he talked to you. Whenever touching you; holding your hand, hugging your arm, or mustering up the courage to embrace you all of a sudden, you would give him a slight squeeze at best, a small smile on your face that screamed fake in Mikey's mind. Your texts were shorter and less frequent, sometimes just reading his messages or ignoring his calls up to an hour or two then responding.

At first Mikey thought you may had been in a bad mood or the exams were getting to you.

After all, you didn't seem to mind his bloody apperance after a fight when he came to pick you up or his reputation as a gang's commander either. You weren't scared of him when you caught him kicking someone's lights off. Or the rumors of how he punched Kazutora and was nearly about to kill him.

The most attention Mikey got from you was when Baji died; you comforted and cried with him. But that was all.

You didn't look okay, with clearly no intention of asking him for help even if he told you to.

You were ignoring him and Mikey was losing it.

So Mikey did a very rational thing.

Break into your house in the middle of the night and shook you awake so you two can finally talk. You WILL talk to him whether you like it or not.

"Mikey-kun!? What are you doing here-" You tried sitting up but Mikey kept you pinned down and firmly held your face with both his hands, all but straddling your stomach. It would've scared you under normal circumstances but what you saw was Mikey staring down at you, his expression seconds away from breaking down as tears swelled in his eyes and dropped on your face.

Mikey was crying.

"D-don't leave me [Y/N]... Please don't... Don't break up with me angel... You can't. I-I can't lose you."

You stared in shock as Mikey leaned down and hugged you, burying his face on the crook of your neck and all but cuddling you to bed, his legs tangling with yours and your heart broke at the quiet whimpers and sobs from your delinquent boyfriend "Manjirou... Who said I'll break up with you?" A hesitant question, you knew it was best to give Mikey some space after his childhood friend died, but maybe you should have been more present instead?

Mikey stood quiet as you gently patted his head, he then leaned his head lower and nestled it onto your chest, lifting his gaze to give you heartbroken puppy dog eyes, now you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his hair was somewhat of a mess as well "C-cuz... You've been ignoring me angel, I don't like you ignoring me- I hate it! I fucking hate it. I-it scares me." He answered in a broken whisper, hugging your torso tighter and again burying his face on your chest, inhaling a deep shaky breath and exhaling, trying to calm down from an unexpected crying fit.

"Oh Jiro... I'm sorry sweetie." You mumbled softly, carefully slipping the blanket from under him and stopping Mikey's trembling when you pulled the covers over both of you, then cupping his face to make Mikey look at you so you could place a kiss on his forehead. That alone stopped Mikey's tears, his puffy eyes now looking at you in desperation "What happened [Y/N]? Talk to me. Please. Tell me what's wrong."

You frowned at the anguished tone of his voice, pursing your lips and glancing away. Your reaction only added to Mikey's distress and panic, he hugged you tighter, almost scared you'd leave "Angel c-come on, is it me? Do I need to change something about myself for you to love me again? I'll do it! M-my apperance maybe? Do you n-not like how I act?" Mikey quickly asked and the declaration shocked you, you swiftly shook your head "No! You're perfect Jiro, I love you because of how you are right now! Don't say that."

Mikey flinched at that, staring at you with wide eyes before tilting his head to kiss your palm "You love me?" He asked weakly, moving his hand over yours and holding it "I love you." You answered with a smile. Sighing in relief once Mikey's expression softened, nuzzling your chest and placing your hand on top of his head. You started petting him and Mikey shyly smiled "I love you too."

"But angel-"

You sighed in relief.

Then Mikey's cold tone of voice caused you to flinch. His expression fell into a nonchalant look.

"Answer my previous question. Why were you ignoring me? Since the problem isn't with me... Is it someone else?"

You clenched your jaw, hesitant, almost wanting to give up before letting out a shaky sigh, Mikey would understand... Wouldn't he? "You know... That... Our biology teacher..." Your voice trembled, gaining Mikey's attention from the strange mention of that guy "He's... Always been w-weird... Even before we met... T-then a few weeks ago he cornered me b-before I- I went home..."

"... Ah." Almost like a light bulb went on in Mikey's head, the blond suddenly looked terrified, like remembering something important "So that day... When you just went home and didn't wait for me..." Mikey had made it his mission to take you home everyday but one specfic day you never showed up, not even a text or a call. And after that day you started to distance yourself.

"[Y/N]..." Mikey gently called out your name, letting go of you and cupping your face instead, leaning up to gently kiss your cheek "Thank you for telling me angel." You teared up when Mikey softly whispered to you "S-sorry for keeping it from you..."

"No you didn't do anything wrong [Y/N]." Mikey smiled at you before shifting to your side, pulling you to his chest and hugging you "You must've been suffering a lot too... From now on I'll never leave you alone."

You closed your eyes, deciding it was best to sleep for now and deal more with Mikey tomorrow. It's been too much of an eventful night.

Mikey kept patting your head but he couldn't sleep, simply holding you close to him as if you would leave if he let go 'Now then.' Mikey's smile fell as his eyes blanked out, hatred swirling inside him when he thought back to what you said 'How to deal with it?'

"So it was you." Mikey smiled, but it never reached his eyes as he kicked the man to the wall, making him drop down after cornering the older adult in the night. Thankfully you were slowly going back to normal. Mikey just had to speed it up by getting rid of the root of the problem.

"You were the one disturbing my angel huh? You annoying fucker, do you know how much you put us through? Can't you take "no" for an answer? If that wasn't disgusting enough you decided to go after MY angel." The blond growled at the cowering man, glaring with lifeless eyes as he thought back to you, you had to go through that alone and Mikey had to believe you didn't love him anymore. All because of this pathetic waste of space.

The blond clicked his tongue in annoyance and punched the adult, knocking him to the ground then continued punching him. Not like anyone could stop him until Mikey was satisfied. He had Toman members keep anyone from coming down the street while he took care of the pest that was ruining your life, Sanzu making sure they had an out if Mikey went overboard.

'I never expected it to be this.' Mikey huffed, he was getting frantic when you didn't talk to him, knowing he'd either have to scare you into being with him like before or gain your pity with crying, luckily he chose the latter and found out you never stopped loving him.

"You almost ruined everything." He gave one last glare to your teacher before throwing the final punch, a sickening crack being heard in the air from the impact "I'll stop for now, but if you ever come near my angel again I'll chase you down and give you worse than hell."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo rev #yandere tokrev #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #yandere one shot #yandere manjiro sano x reader #yandere manjiro sano #yandere mikey x reader #yandere mikey

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silusvesuius · 3 months

Note

Your Depiction of Ulfric is literal perfection. I’ve never seen anyone who sees him in a similar way to me, until I found your account last year. I fucking love miserable old man Ulfric who could never catch a break since the day he was born. Every major event in his life (he can’t even decide which one’s the worst) shaped him in the worst yet most interesting way possible. I can’t speak enough about him, his messed up self esteem clashing with his ego, his repressed emotions and sexuality, his shattered image of his own body and mind, the constant loud arguments between the voices in his head (mostly just him arguing with hallucinations) *I’m definitely not projecting here* his unstable mood, his flashbacks and his odd obsessions with random harmful patterns he associates with familiarity. Because to him familiar=safe even if he’s basically only familiar to a constant state of worry and feeling like he’s being targeted or hunted down.

None of this seems to be getting better, at least not in a notable speed. Yet they’re all existing within a strong and powerful man. It’s quite the combination, he’s being weighted down by all of that baggage but his back is too strong to bend. He appears as if he has nerves of steel from the outside, but really if anything is made of steel in his mind, it’s the vessel that he uses to bottle all of that trauma up.

I already had a vague idea of his complicated relationship (obviously) with Elenwen but your version literally felt like it opened my third eye. It is scrumptious and your art is so beautiful it depicts every essence of it all perfectly without even needing to include words. I fell in love with it at first sight.

dis answer is kinda long so i'm (crumpling it up and tossing it under the cut)

Omg wtf Thank you's 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 this is so well put together into words; i will do 9543 backflips for demented ulfric always. i've grown to like him in canon too cause he really has that, wouldn't even call it deceitful, weirdly-content personality.. but i don't think anyone in the writing room in sk*rim HQ knows how to write a character that has been through Anything, event of any kind, so he seems too 'perfect' for a person that has been through literal physical torture, to me, and his reactions to things that should be greatly upsetting are too mild. even though him being elenwen's victim is a piece of information that's easy to miss it seems like it also completely slipped out of the writing IOFDHDJFUIO LOL.. it all obviously adds up to him seeming more appealing as a fashie character to the audience, cus a visibly mentally unwell man wouldn't do it for most people, especially when you want to sway someone to be on his side of things.

i think it's quite smart for the st*rmcloaks to be presented as the more warm and welcoming types of people but ulfric should be the coldest of them all. Bro shouldn't even have the mental and physical capacity to seem Content with his life especially in that moment. he should be the type to use his civil war motivations as an excuse to stay alive if that makes sense, cause i don't think he really wants to live, but he has things to do to keep his mind and hands busy xchkvcjcvkl//

i also really love how ulfric only has galmar as someone he's really close to, it always seemed beyond genius to me, to write them like that, it's cute... he rly is the only person to suffer thru 4 hours of ulfric Peak psychosis monologue followed by 2 hours of trying to prove to him that th*lmor and imperial soldiers aren't hiding in the chests and under the beds of the palace LMFAOO galmar is the one guy who he can sob in front of and act like a little baby fishing for compliments and reassurance, and, not all that related to ulfric as a whole, but i strongly believe that having him be so vulnerable with galmar would make galmar really excited, it would make him feel good, like no other damsel in distress could deliver that feeling EVER. having such a seemingly-strong political figure rely on you Badly and madly would feel like something else entirely 💗 it's very off-putting and perhaps inappropriate of him to feel that way when ulfric is just searching for stability, but i think that even if ulfric knew galmar felt that way he wouldn't really gaf LOL. he'd turn to elenwen if there was no one else to go to cause he 'knows' her, and he'd torment elisif cause he 'knows' her as well.. but he would be completely closed off from making connections with other people 🏆

+ bonus; elenwen's feelings for him would border on everything at once, like, every type of relationship and connection that ever exists.. she really views him as the food she left over in the fridge and will get to eat when she's back from work as a reward

tl;dr him being scarier and more .. unkempt? from the outside would make him even cooler tbhs. he should become christian and develop religious OCD

#ask #i love herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (him)#him just lashing out at everyone would just be cute *audience Aww sfx*

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karatekels · 7 months

Text

Scream For Me – Chapter 2:

I think I'm a bad person for writing this. I do have a little epilogue in my head that involves the aftercare that we don't get to in this scene (which is very important, but it's late and I know at least SOME of you have been waiting long enough), so I might write that once DDO is over. Any-hoo, enjoy!

Also, I'd recommend having Terry Silver's theme on loop, especially while reading his POV!

Part 1 Here

TW: OH BOY... Violence, knives, threats, stalking, psychological torture, begging, bondage, gagging, spanking, graphic sex, all wrapped up in a bow that isn't really consensual non-consent (at least not in a healthy way), but hey, I'm not an expert.

---

Terry’s POV:

He watches you pick up the note through his binoculars, lurking in the shadows of the garden and giggling like a madman. He was beginning to wonder if you would ever come out of the damn bath – he had snuck into the bathroom to steal your phone almost two hours ago. With your head tipped back against the lip of the tub and your eyes closed, you had looked so serene…

He hopes you had enjoyed that feeling while you could.

The emotions on your face change from a soft sweetness to confusion and then horror, and would have made a triptych worthy of any art museum if he had had the forethought to photograph you in this moment. But no matter; this was all for him anyway, and he didn’t plan on forgetting tonight any time soon.

The cards had been a particular stroke of genius, in his opinion. Taking a symbol of the sweet, considerate Terry that you know and love and perversely twisting it into a threat was the perfect way of letting you know just what you were in for.

You throw on your silk robe – a deep purple, and a compliment to his red one – over your pyjamas and leave the bedroom, and he laughs to himself again. The game had begun.

He trails after you from outside the house, watching you through the expansive windows as you move down the hall from one room to the other in search of the staff, seeing your lips move as you called for someone’s – anyone’s – attention.

But no one was coming for you tonight – no one but him.

You start to look around you nervously, quickening your pace as you start to panic, and Terry cannot wait to get inside, to taste your fear in the air. So he does just that, slipping in silently through the one window he had left open on the property; the rest of the place, doors and windows, had been locked shut, their passcodes changed and only known to himself and Victor.

You really shouldn’t have put him in this position; he hasn’t had this much fun in far too long.

Closing the window behind him, sealing the two of you inside, he stalks down the hallway towards the staircase, hearing you descending from the third floor.

You move hesitantly to the kitchen, and he follows close behind, slipping from shadow to shadow with the ease of long practice. This isn’t something that one forgot how to do, no matter how much therapy one underwent.

You spot his second card on the kitchen counter, and look over your shoulder, clearly paranoid. He wonders if you’ll be too afraid to actually pick it up, but after a long moment you force yourself to walk over to it, reaching out with trembling fingers. He holds his breath, eagerly wanting to watch your reaction as you take in the words on his card:

You can’t hide.

He times it perfectly – right as you let out a gasp, he cuts the power to the house through the app on his phone, plunging the mansion into darkness, and you let out a startlingly arousing shriek of surprise and fear. Terry had never been one to shy away from being dramatic, but he is particularly proud of his theatrics in this instance.

“Terry?” you call out, your voice quivering and higher than usual. Terry doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even blink, drinking in your silhouette in the moonlight.

“Victor, if this is your idea of a joke, I swear –”

He interrupts you with a whistle that pierces the silence, the same tune that he always whistled, and you let out a whimper, reflexively stumbling back a few steps away from the noise.

“Terry,” you snarl his name, glaring at him in the darkness, though he sees through the show of bravado; you are too terrified to move, even knowing that it’s him.

Good.

When he still doesn’t respond, your anger disappears as quickly as it came on, and he watches you bite that spot on your lower lip with anxiety.

“T-Terry, if you l-lied about being away just to go to all this t-trouble to make yourself seem s-scary, I’m going to be so mad…” you argue with the darkness, now looking in the complete wrong direction of where he lurked, shrouded by shadows. You were going to be mad at him? How precious.

You get restless standing in the silence, and dash out of the kitchen, heading back around to the stairs at the front of the house. He follows, ghosting along behind you, keeping his distance. He wanted to watch you come apart for awhile longer before he really got things going.

You walk to the foyer and grab a pair of shoes from the front door, slipping them on while looking around you the whole time.

“I’m not scared of you, Terry Silver. I’m pissed, and I’m leaving!” you announce, moving to pull the front door open and scowling at it when it doesn’t budge. You double check the lock, grabbing the handle with both hands now and tugging with all your might. He can hear your breath coming harder and faster now, as you move to the keypad next to the door, punching in the code. It flashes red, seeming to mock you, and you whirl around in panic that you weakly attempt to disguise as fury.

“Seriously!?” you growl, stomping up the stairs and heading to his office on the second floor; it still had a landline.

He grins, the moonlight making his bared teeth glow, and sneaks up the stairs after you to find a good hiding spot with a view of the office door. He waits for a minute, smirking in the shadows, then hears you let out a scream of frustration as you realize it has been disconnected. As soon as you quiet down he starts whistling again, sending you barreling out of the room, your eyes darting from side to side as you try to pinpoint him from the sound.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun, now knock it off!”

Even at the beginning, your anger hadn’t exactly had him shaking in his boots, but it was downright pitiful now. Did you really think that you were going to be the one deciding when this was over?

In a way, he supposes you will; once he’s got you broken down, crying, pleading for mercy and forgiveness, he’ll come back to himself, come back to you. Lick your wounds clean if you’d let him; and you would.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to kick things up a notch.

He dashes down the hall to another alcove, making sure to pound his feet against the floor, his loud steps thundering and echoing through the halls. You back away with a strangled scream, your eyes wide with fright as you track his shadowy figure before you turn and run full tilt into the East wing of the house. Terry moves after you, quickly and silently trailing after the sound of your footsteps as you move into the room housing his weapons collection.

He takes the long way around, going through the library, hearing the scraping of metal on metal as he approaches you from behind. Slipping into the room silently, you stand facing away from him, brandishing the sword at the doorway you had entered from.

“Terry, if that’s you, you’d better come out right fucking now, or I’m going to start swinging this thing.”

‘This thing’was a centuries-old katana that you had snatched off of it’s gilded kake, each piece worth more than you could possibly imagine. You had no idea how to use it, and were in far more danger of hurting yourself than you seemed to realize. And that wouldn’t do; he was the one who would be controlling your pain – He knew how to wield pain, how to use it to stretch pleasure in ways you never even dreamed were possible. And he would show you tonight.

Unsheathing the dagger at his hip, he silently raises the blade up in the air, turning it so that it reflects the moonlight onto the wall in front of you to catch your eye. You yelp, spinning around and holding the blade out in front of you – he can see the thin metal wavering in the air – and he knows he has to get that away from you quickly before you sliced yourself accidentally.

“Careful, sweetheart. You could hurt yourself,” he warns you, his voice soft and sweet and standing in harsh contrast to the circumstances.

You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes, your face lit up by the moonlight and your body vibrating with tension. You have not lowered the katana.

“Terry, what the hell are you doing?!” you hiss at him, still trying to put on a brave (or at least angry) face.

“Showing you what I’ve been keeping from you all this time, my dear,” he purrs with a feral grin, taking a step towards you. “It’s about time you saw me for who I am, what I am.”

“W-Why?”

“Because you didn’t believe I was capable of it.”

He lunges forward with the dagger, knocking the katana safely out of your hands with one swing, and you scream, stumbling away from him.

“Terry, you could have hit me!” you exclaim while he calmly sheathes the dagger. He cocks his head at you, almost offended. You were still doubting his abilities, even now?

He takes a threatening step towards you, and you scamper backwards. He follows your movements with his own, slowly guiding you into a corner; when your back finally hits the wall, you let out a whimper, your eyes filled with pure terror.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N,” he coos, closing the distance between you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice oh-so-innocent as he cages you in with his body.

“I-I… Yes,” you breathe, even as you press yourself further against the wall, away from him. He grins wolfishly, erasing the space between you by pushing his body flush against yours and feeling you shudder at the contact. Slowly and so gently, he reaches up with one large hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed.

That same hand wraps around your throat, pinning you in place, and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“But you know that I could now, don’t you?” he whispers, feeling your choked gasp through his fingertips around your neck.

“Terry, you’re scaring me,” you confess in a tiny voice, your eyes shut tight.

“Good.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder against him again, letting out a primal cry of fear. Suddenly, his weight is off of you and he’s pulled you by the arm, flinging you in the direction of the doorway.

“But I’m not done proving it to you yet.”

---

Reader’s POV:

This was a nightmare.

You can’t remember ever being this scared; you’ve never come close.

Your Terry, your loving, doting Terry… had this really been inside of him all along?

Looking at him now, his hair back in a messy ponytail, dark clothing that helped him blend into the night, his eyes shining brighter than the moonlight streaming through the window, he’s like a demonic creature, looming over you and waiting to strike. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can’t even think straight.

“Terry, you don’t need to prove it to me anymore, okay? I was wrong,” you say, trying to reason with him.

“Words are actions, and actions have consequences.”

“Terry, can we please stop this? I don’t want this,” you try for begging instead.

“Oh but sweetheart, you do.” The confidence with which he says it nearly has you questioning yourself.

“What? No, I –”

“Why haven’t you used our safeword?” he asks you bluntly, giving you an indulgent, mocking smile.

“I…” you start, but trail off when you couldn’t think of an excuse. Why hadn’t you?

You had known that this was Terry almost immediately; the notes had been in his handwriting, only he could empty the place of the staff, the haunting whistling was the tune he whistled.

Was it because you knew it was him and that, terrified as you were, you did believe that Terry wouldn’t actually hurt you? Even so, he was still frightening you more than you would have thought possible…

Or was it the knowledge that if you weren't you, if you didn't mean what you did to him, he could do absolutely anything to you and you would be powerless to even try stop him, and that a part of you wanted this dark, twisted side of him to have his way with you, to own you just as the rest of him did?

Arousal burns through your adrenaline at the thought. Oh.

“There she is, there’s my girl,” he purrs, sounding proud as you realize what he clearly had ages ago. Strangely, the knowledge that your life isn’t in danger doesn’t have you feeling relieved; you’re still on edge, you’re still paranoid, you’re still scared.

“I’ll give you a ten second head start this time, babygirl,” he informs you, staring at you like you’re prey, “and trust me when I say you’re going to be hurting tomorrow if I catch you.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you don’t waste any time, turning and sprinting away from him. Where could you even go? He would hear you, he would find you, he was so much faster…

But you were smaller.

You fly down the stairs to the main floor, frantically looking around you. Where could you hide that Terry wouldn’t look, or think to look? You had to hurry; your time was almost up. You hear him start to whistle the same chilling tune, a tune you’ll never be able to hear again without thinking about tonight, and start to panic as you slide into the living room.

There.

The fireplace. You think back to the other day, of Terry telling you that he had once climbed into a fireplace to hide, when he had broken into that old man’s house for information for his crazy revenge plan. It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant; and he would never suspect it.

Plus, there was a sweet sort of poetic justice to evading him using the methods he had told you about during the conversation that had started this whole debacle. You were determined to wait him out, all night if you had to. Trying not to make a sound, you drop to your knees, crawling into the pitch-black and feeling your way around. You're grateful you still have your shoes on, at least, though you’re pretty sure your favourite robe is ruined from the ashes as you manage to tuck yourself into a corner.

You hear him descend the staircase at a leisurely pace that makes a shiver run down your spine. Something about him acting as though he had all the time in the world was incredibly unsettling. You strain your ears, trying to listen for any sound of him approaching, and then you see his legs walking past you, through the living room and towards the kitchen.

You hold your breath, and don’t blink, not relaxing until long after he’s disappeared from view.

You slowly let out your breath, your head falling onto your knees. Hopefully you had some time before he came around again…

---

You have no idea what time it is, or how long you have being sitting curled up in the coals, but your whole body is cramped and aching. Maybe you could slip out just for a minute or two, just to stretch...

You would just stick your head out, just to listen for the sound of his footsteps, or that damned whistling again. Like a turtle coming out of its shell, you slowly stick your head out of the fire place, your head turned to look at the door. It seems like the coast is clear…

You go to turn back, to slowly step out of the fireplace and not get caught on the grate, but he’s there, squatting on the balls of his feet, looking down at you with a devious smirk on his face.

“Gotcha.”

You’re too startled to even scream, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you try to scramble back into your protective cavern like an animal. But Terry is on you immediately, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and the other snatching up your wrist, roughly yanking you out from under the mantle and throwing you onto the couch in a heap.

Before you can recover, there is an ominous ripping noise, and he slaps a strip of duct tape over your mouth none too gently. You can’t help but try to scream through it despite knowing it’s useless.

“Can’t have you waking the neighbours now, can we?” he jeers, laughing at you as you thrash against him as he tries to bind your hands behind your back, wrestling you into place. As he pins you down, you feel his hard cock against you, and fight back a shudder. This was really getting him off.

“You thought that you could just curl up and hide from me? Poor little thing; you never stood a chance,” he mocks as he pulls you up onto your knees, your arms now useless. Grabbing your chin from behind, Terry forces you to look at to the fireplace. There’s a half-empty glass of whiskey on the mantle. Neat, just the way he liked it.

You make a muffled, incredulous noise through the duct tape and he laughs, dark and husky, in your ear.

“You held out in your little bunker longer than I thought you would, sweet thing, but I was right out here waiting for you the whole time.”

Hot, embarrassed tears slide down your face, adding to the horror boiling up in the pit of your stomach. You’d thought you had been so cautious, so clever, and he had been watching and waiting the whole time as you sat huddled up with the ashes, terrified.

Terry grabs your upper arm, dragging you back to the fireplace and pointing down to the floor. Forcing your gaze downwards, you see charcoal residue all over the floor.

"If you were anyone else, I'd have you cleaning the dirt you just got all over my floor with your tongue. Instead, your cheek can wipe it up while I make you mine.”

A feeling of angry revulsion washes over you, and you manage to wrench your arm out of his grip and charge towards the couch, leaping over the back of it despite your body’s protests at the sudden movement. You take a couple of steps backwards, keeping the couch between you and Terry, not that you think it’ll do you any good.

He laughs delightedly, clapping his hands in front of him.

“This is why I was so captivated by you the first time we met, Y/N. You’re so fiery – no pun intended – even when you’re so obviously outmatched. You never know when to give up.”

You’re thrown off balance by the strangely-timed compliment, and it gives Terry the opportunity to hurdle the couch with ease. You turn to run but are far too late, and he kicks out at the back of your knees, grabbing hold of you before you can hit the ground and sending you sliding across the floor.

The way he does it is so measured and precise, and while you can appreciate that he doesn’t want you to be really, seriously hurt, it isn’t lost on you that he knows exactly how to do this for a reason. The same knowledge and skill he’s using to bat you around like a cat with a ball of yarn could be used to break you, and that little bit of insight is what has you giving up, curling up on the floor with your hands bound behind your back.

Terry’s booted foot wedges itself underneath your hip, lifting you up and rolling you onto your knees. He tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you facing forward while he comes to kneel behind you, and you’re not proud of the thrill of anticipation that runs through you.

His other hand comes around, slowly and gently untying your robe and pulling it open. He gropes you roughly over your pyjamas, and you let out muffled moans before he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“I thought I had taught you to not bother with pyjamas, Y/N,” he tsks as if disappointed. “Now I’ve got to ruin them.”

He brings his hand up in front of you again, this time clutching the dagger he’d had earlier. You arch away from it reflexively, and Terry’s grip tightens in your hair as he presses the cold face of the knife to your collarbone.

“Stay still, little doll. We don’t want any accidents,” he hisses in your ear, and you tilt your head back, baring your neck and trying to stay still. He slips the blade slowly between your breasts, and your breath hitches as he slices through fabric of your pyjama top with ease.

“That’s it,” Terry coos approvingly. “Head down.”

You immediately tuck your chin, and feel him brush your hair over your shoulders. He teases the knife at the nape of your neck, and you clench your thighs and your teeth, fighting to keep still as you feel him slice the back of your robe, the tip of the blade ghosting along your spine. He sets the knife against the floor, grabbing the two halves of the robe and pulling them away from your body.

You lunge forward in one last attempt at freedom, but he grabs your ankle, pulling you backwards and yanks your pyjama bottoms down to your ankles, impeding your motion.

“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you, Y/N,” he snarls, spanking you hard and making you leap forward again with a muffled groan.

“You do, don’t you?” taunts you, spanking you again. “Such a filthy fucking slut, even after all this.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Without the duct tape, you think you’d be drooling all over the place. Terry’s dirty talk always drove you wild, but degrading you like this while you laid on the kitchen floor, bound and gagged and covered in soot, nearly has you passing out.

“Show me how much you want it, baby,” he demands, and you don’t hesitate, immediately spreading your knees and dropping your head and shoulders to the floor, arching your back as much as you can to show him your slick entrance. Your nipples and one of your cheeks press against the cold floor and you whimper, looking back at him with pleading eyes.

Terry is staring down at you with dark eyes, his lips slightly parted and an almost feral expression on his face, curls of hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes. “I want to ruin you.”

You groan, so turned on you can feel your pussy leaking down your thighs, writhing against the floor and waggling your ass at him, desperately looking for some stimulation. His hands move to his belt and he quickly pulls his cock out, rock hard and leaking at the tip.

He moves behind you, one hand wrapping around your bound wrists, the other guiding his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you in one smooth motion, immediately setting a brutal pace that has you screaming as much as you can through the duct tape.

“I should always be buried inside you,” he growls, snapping his hips against yours at just that perfect angle to have you nearly going cross-eyed, your knees likely already bruised from the position. He uses his grip on your wrists to pull you back onto his cock as he fucks you, using your body deliciously. You can already feel yourself getting close.

“I can feel your cunt throbbing around my cock,” he groans, slowing down his hips to pound into you with hard, deep thrusts. “You’re coming so quick just from being used. Such a dirty little girl,” he hisses approvingly, and you see stars as you clench around him, coming hard with a shriek.

Terry doesn’t give you a moment’s rest; in fact, he increases his pace again, moving his hand from your wrists up to your hair, pulling your head back with a fistful and making your spine bow even more. You swear you can feel him in your heart, he’s fucking you so hard, and you let him know how good he makes you feel, screaming until you’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I love you gagged, but I want to enjoy every scream from that pretty throat.”

He unceremoniously rips the duct tape from your mouth, likely taking a layer or two of skin with it, and you scream in pain even as you suck in deep breaths of air.

“Terry, pleeease!” you groan out, your voice hoarse and raspy. He releases your hair, letting you slump to the floor, so he can grip your waist, his large hands nearly wrapping completely around it. Your head hits the ground hard enough to sting, but it only adds to your perverse pleasure as you sob at the overstimulation.

“My little fucktoy wants to come again, huh?” Terry snarls, using his bruising grip to pump you on his cock. You wail, unable to articulate a response; you can’t think straight, you barely have the wherewithal to remember to breathe.

“I’m gonna make that pretty pussy come on my cock again, and it’s gonna milk every drop out of my cock, isn’t that right?” You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him.

“Dirty girls with greedy little cunts beg nicely to get pumped full.”

Fuck, he was filthy.

And you know it means he’s close.

“Please Sir, I need your come!” you beg desperately, barely hanging on. “I’m a good girl, fill me up!”

He comes with a roar and you follow after, the feeling of him coming deep inside you sending you right over the edge. You clamp down around his cock, making him hiss with pleasure that teeters right on the cusp of pain.

“Oh fuck yes, Y/N!” he pants, still thrusting erratically into you, “My good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir!” you moan, the words coming out as natural as breathing.

“Now every time I fuck you, you’ll remember exactly what I’m capable of, isn’t that right love?” Terry coos down at you once he catches his breath, kissing your sweaty shoulder as he cuts through the duct tape on your wrists.

You’re too spent to nod, let alone speak, and settle for a wordless moan of agreement, letting yourself slump to the ground, whimpering as more of your bare skin hits the cold floor.

You don’t remember how you get to bed, but it comes back in bits and pieces eventually.

*whistles innocently and walks away*

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #dark desires october #fresh start #graphic smut #smut #extremely dark #cnc?#hard to tell with these two #i love them so much

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strawberrysodaslut · 2 years

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hey babe! loveeee your work! could you possibly write a steve x reader where reader works at the local book store? honestly i trust you so much with this so run with the wind!! write it however you want just with that plot point! i just wanted book nerds (me) to represented lol. love ya 😘

Video Killed the Bookstore Clerk - Steve Harrington x Reader

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[ Steve Harrington Masterlist ]

[ Main Masterlist ]

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word count: 1.2k

summary: working in a bookstore right next to the video store had its ups and downs, but Steve Harrington was definitely a highlight to your day.

warnings: fluff, mention of smutty books, platonic relationship (for now)

a/n: this request made my writing juices floww, i feel like i focused more on the reader working at a bookstore than Steve himself but I hope I was still able to do this request justice!!

join taglist <- tags in reblog

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Working at a bookstore was one of the better decisions you had made in your teenage years.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, the pay wasn’t amazing, neither were the hours, your co-workers were either so pretentious you couldn’t talk to them about anything you enjoyed, or so boring you hated the idea of asking them, but there definitely were some upsides.

One of your favourite parts of working at the book store was meeting people who read the same books you did, getting to talk to them all about the book.

what’s their favourite character?

what’s their least favourite character?

what scene made them cry?

what scene made them rip the book in half?

did they actually rip the book in half?

is that why they’re here to buy another copy of the book?

It made for some amazing conversations for sure.

You also loved how much you could learn about people based on the books they read, you’d get the people who only came to buy books for their English class,

the people who love horror and gore who asked you how much violence was actually in the book, only to come back complaining that there wasn’t enough,

there were the people who adored the romantic books, craving that kind of love in their real world,

and then… there was a specific type of book that more people came for than they’d care to admit.

Some would call them erotica, some would call it sensual, but the most common phrase, porn books. You couldn’t blame them, those writers knew how to get you feeling all sorts of ways, but there was humour to watching people buy the books that you couldn’t ignore.

There, of course, were the people with no shame, who would walk directly to the spicy stuff, pick out the book and walk straight to you. But most of your customers would have a bit more… nuance when buying that genre.

It would always start with the classics, looking at books they already read in school, or books they would never read, then they’d dip their toes in, try looking at the general romance, the fluffier stuff where sex is only between the betrothed. And then, only for a few minutes, would they pick out the book they were actually here for, either acting disgusted with the premise or completely unaware of the contents of the book, but you knew the truth… they knew exactly what was in that book.

Another part of working at the bookstore was the rivalry with your neighbour, the video store. To this day, you still don’t know which store was here first, but whoever decided to go next door to the other was either an idiot or an evil genius, or maybe both.

It was honestly hilarious watching how serious your pretentious co-worker, Adam, would take the unspoken competition between the two stores. Whenever you spoke to someone working there- or god forbid shopped there, you’d get a painfully long lecture the next day about how “Movies are the death of books” and how they’re “rotting people's minds and only the sanctity of books will save them.”

While you enjoyed books, it was shocking to see the extent this man would go to in ‘defence’ of an art form that has been around for centuries.

“Didn’t you hear the song ‘Video killed the radio star’? It’s the same thing here. Open your eyes.” Adam said, continuing another very long rant after catching you rent ‘Back to the Future.

You roll your eyes, “You know one day those stores are probably gonna become obsolete, right? Eventually, technology is gonna move past renting tapes to watch a movie at home, I mean- cinemas have been around for decades and we’re doing fine. You need to relax, books will be okay.”

“Not if I have any say in the matter” You hear a male voice from the front door, specifically, Steve Harrington’s voice.

Steve was one of the clerks at the video store, and one of the few people on the shopping strip you could actually stand. Although neither of you particularly cared about the whole ‘books vs film’ competition, you had a lot of fun participating- mainly to make fun of each other.

“At least when people pay for our stuff, they keep it.” You joked to Steve, watching as he dramatically pushed his hand over his heart, as if he was hurt by your comment.

“My, what an attitude we have here today.” He says, walking behind the counter while ignoring Adam’s protests as he sits next to you, “It’s called marketing, if they wanna watch the movie again they have to come back. Books don't have that, do they?”

You gave a sarcastic nod, hoping it would add some humour to your comeback, “Libraries,” You say, watching as the smirk on Steve’s face dropping as he thinks about it.

“Shit.” He says, making you laugh.

The two of you then continue the tradition you’d had for months, he would rent a movie he thought you’d like, and you’d do the same with a book, then the next week you’d trade back and share your thoughts.

“So, what’d you think of ‘It’?” You ask, nodding to the book he had pulled out of his bag.

Judging by his face, you knew he had some things to say. “Look, I liked it- I really did. It has that Stephen King charm you know I love. But the part with the kids fucking? Fucked up.”

You nod, understanding what he’s talking about “Yeah, that part was pretty icky,”

“Super fucking gross,” He says, laughing a little. “What about you? Did you like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

You nod, “Yeah, it was real funny.” It was a lie, you hadn’t actually gotten the chance to see it, between school and work, you didn’t have the time.

Steve knew you too well to think you were telling the truth, so he decided to test you a little, “Who’s your favourite character?”

You chuckle, “Uh- my favourite character is… Ferries Bueller?”

“You didn’t watch it,” Steve says, shaking his head at you.

A wave of guilt overcomes you, “I know, I didn’t. I’m so sorry, I just got so caught up with work and school, and I only lied because I didn’t wanna ruin our tradition because I really like spending time with you and-“

Steve cuts you off, “Hey- woah… hey, it’s no big deal, we’ll just have to watch it tonight.”

You look up at him, “Really?” The two of you had never seen each other outside of work hours, it seemed insane to imagine him in your house.

He nods, “Sure, why not? I’ll bring the popcorn?” He says, getting up to head out of the store.

“Sure, what time?” You ask.

Steve shakes his head from side to side, trying to think of a time, “Oh, I don’t know, Seven?” He asks, smiling as you nod. “See you then.” He says, walking out the door.

You smile, going back to stocking the shelves when Steve comes back into the shop, paper and pen in hand.

“I forgot to ask for your address.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington headcannons #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you

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thinkingoflawrence · 5 months

Text

Imagine: Adam and you move to San Francisco (Fluff)

—————————

This is for a friend, so there are insiders like “San Francisco” in it, The character is also based of off her, at least as best as I could.

i hope others still enjoy it!

———————

After you and Adam finally had enough money to move to San Francisco to open your camera shop,

you had helped Adam out of the bathroom, and finally got away from Jigsaw… you, yourself, were a Jigsaw victim too, you survived and somehow became an apprentice.

You had known him from Scott, you were invited to some house party that Scott was throwing, and then you met Adam there. Now, in San Francisco, the two of you set out to turn your passion for photography into a new chapter, leaving behind the dark part of your lives.

After a long ass car drive, we finally arrived,

Our car stopped in front of our new store and our new apartment, “Damn… We made it… Adam! San Francisco… our store. Can you believe it? Holy shit…”

with an excited tone to it, “Believe it, sweetheart. I always knew this day would come. Now, let the city bask in the glory of our photographic genius”

he gave me a smirk, and chuckled awkwardly, I got out of the car and Adam then followed.

I just stood there looking at the building, our flat was right above the store, it looked amazing… it was just amazing…

The sound of Adam's camera echoed through the moment, and as I turned, he had that mischievous grin. “Well, now our first new memory”,

“wait wait wait… take another picture, wait…” I did my best sigma expression that I could, and Adam took another picture, trying not to laugh his ass off.

As Adam previewed the shots, i glanced at the photos.

“What's with the Sigma act, Soph? Trying to look all mysterious and brooding?”

I chuckled, “You're missing the charm.”

Adam being a little sassy, “Soph, it's called ambiance. But if you've got a better pose, feel free to enlighten us.”

“Well… no, fuck you” i said jokingly

Adam smirked, “Ambiance, Soph, Ambiance. It's an art you might not understand.”

Sophia shot back, “Well, I've got my own art form it's called not giving a damn. Try it sometime.”

I chimed in with a playful tone, “Yeah, Adam, take notes from that.” Adam laughed, “I'll consider it, but I make no promises. I've got an image to maintain, you know.”

As we bantered, I couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. “Yeah, alright, alright, whatever,” I said with a grin, “but seriously, maybe we should channel this energy into getting those cardboard boxes inside? Our new life in San Francisco isn't going to unpack itself.” i said,

Adam chuckled, “Fine, fine, we'll save the photo shoot for later. Let's deal with the cardboard boxes.”

My lips curled into a grin, “Finally, someone with priorities. Maybe, just maybe, there's hope for you. The mix of sass, laughter, and the excitement of a new beginning hung in the air as we put everything in the flat above the store.

Entering the flat, a comforting new smell surrounded us. Boxes down, we started unpacking, the promise of a fresh start in each unopened box.

—

Time skip ~ some days later

——

“Alright, that was the last one…” I remarked as I watched the last customer leave the shop, Adam was just in the back, Adam was immersed in developing pictures. Deciding to visit him, I swiftly walked to the door and opened it. “Boo.” I exclaimed, and to my surprise, Adam jumped, nearly dropping the pictures. He shot me a wide-eyed look, and then we both burst into laughter.

“You were very scary, you know?” Adam teased. “I know, I know, thank you,” I replied, inspecting the developing photos. Some were already hanging up to dry, and I noticed the pictures Adam took when we arrived were there.

“Well, they really turned out great, especially this one,“ I said, grabbing the picture. “Damn, I'm beautiful.” I held the photo next to my face, recreating the expression.

Adam took the picture, a bit embarrassed but still sassy. “I wanted to make something with it, but I forgot, okay?”

“Well, damn, okay,” I said. “I'll go upstairs already. You can finish if you want.”

“Alright, I'll just finish up and then join you, Soph.” Adam gave me a soft, quick kiss before I headed upstairs. way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth before finally heading to bed.

To my surprise, Adam was already there. “Well, someone was fast,” I remarked. “Yeah, I was quick to finish all of them,” Adam said with a small smile as he got into bed.

I joined him, and we just laid there, talking about everything and anything. Eventually, we fell asleep, wrapped in the comfort of each other's company.

————-

———-

Tag list:

@xqnqx @thinkingofnana

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #x reader #for a friend #pookie #camera #camera shop #couple #saw #saw fanfic #adam #leigh whannell #fanfic

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elderscrollsconceptart · 2 hours

Text

Text below is transcribed from Ray Lederer's 2012 blogpost about Adam Adamowicz after Adam had passed away.

Both were artists on Skyrim and shared an office together. They were very very close.

---

[Ray Lederer (L) and Adam Adamowicz (R)]

-Tuesday, February 14, 2012

I first met Adam when I started working at a tiny game development studio in Boulder, Colorado back in 1998 called Devil’s Thumb Entertainment. I walked into the studio on my first day of work and I’m pretty sure The Cramps were playing full blast from his general direction. There he was, sun baked and surrounded with what at the time I assumed were rare Jaimie Hewlett sketches pasted up around him, loads of cds and flyers for rockabilly rollerderby raver chicks with squids on their heads. ‘Welcome to the monster factory!’ he said and I thought instantly ‘Oh hell yeah! I came to the right place!’ It didn’t take long to figure out that what I thought were Jaimie Hewlett drawings were actually his and to be quite honest were 10 times more appealing and hilarious. (No offense Jaimie!)

When I finally got the chance to see his apartment in Denver I realized I was stepping into the mind of a creative genius. His entire apartment from floor to ceiling, front to back was covered with his paintings, massive cardboard sculptural cat like gargoyles, christmas lights, intricate costumes (designed with little more than a leather jacket, cheap sombrero, toys from a thrift shop, black and silver spray paint and hot glue) flyers for previous rent parties from his old warehouse, Tank Girl comics, Low Rider and American Artist magazines, Thomas Pynchon novels and a constant stream of music. Every square inch was interesting and VITAL and ALIVE. This was an intellect far beyond anyone else I’d ever met and there was not a single hint of pretentiousness to him. His entire life was a beautifully structured and disciplined chaos. Even then I began to see that not only was I in the presence of greatness, I was in the presence of one of the more important illustrators of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. He just didn’t know it yet and neither did anyone else. Quite frankly he wouldn’t give a shit if someone gave him that label. He simply wanted to come up with more ideas and get better at drawing. Period.

Since then we got into many beer soaked adventures that sometimes included late night bike rides through the city streets of Denver with a boom-box strapped to the back blasting Big Audio Dynamite with sparklers hanging off the handlebars(and some stiches on the scalp of yours truly). Dangerously drunken skateboarding with cap guns, ditching psychedelic parties to go laugh our asses off and throw giant rocks in a frozen river, concerts, weekend long patio surfing tours in the Colorado summers, trips to the reservoir to float around wearing finely crafted and thrilling 12pack headgear, lunchtime bike rides up to our favorite outdoor patio Rhumba in Boulder for $2 Red Stripes and then back to work again, and many hours working close to him and learning as much as I could about being an artist and a better human being. He once said to me “I may not be Mozart, but at least I can try to be the Pixies.” He just wanted to entertain people in any way he could.

In his last few days we spent together in the hospital we sat on his hospital bed listening to music for hours, talking, and drawing in our sketchbooks. Our conversations were tinted with what was happening for him in the moment certainly, but mostly we talked about friends, art, music, and life. We spoke without much nostalgia or finality, just very real and present and forward looking despite the circumstances. He kept drawing until he couldn't possibly draw anymore, squeezing every last ounce he could out of life, just as he always had.

Watch papa go to work.

I love you Adam. You continue to be my friend, mentor, and greatest inspiration

---

Original post can be found here:

#adam adamowicz #rip adam adamowicz #ray lederer #the elder scrolls #tes #in memoriam #skyrim

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kayhi808 · 9 months

Text

Perfect Match - 13

As much as you didn’t want to, you did the right thing and contacted your cousins. You picked out a dress for the wedding party and asked them to have their measurements taken with the seamstress. The ball is in their court. If they don’t do it, so be it. You’ll find out by weeks end how big of a bridal party you’ll have. You have other things to concentrate on, other than catty women. Bill keeps reminding you, that you’re doing the right thing. If you had your way, it would be your turn to kidnap Billy and whisk him away to elope with you.

*****

The weeks have flown by! Bill’s friend, Micro, installed state of the art security & surveillance in the townhouse. He's been helping Bill search for Mike Fontana. Micro is amazing! He's got facial recognition programs that he designed which is better than what the government has access to. He's tapped into the city's traffic cams. He can hack into private businesses. He's a genius, and yet Mike has given you the slip. He's fallen completely off the grid.

Bill hired security for you both, which was needed anyway once the transfer of businesses were signed over to Bill. Now there’s a driver & bodyguards that travel with you. Whether to work at the lounges & bars, out shopping, meetings, running in the park, a bodyguard is always with you. After you were moved into the townhouse, no bloody hearts have been delivered, but hate mail persists & sometimes photos. Candid shots of you around city. Bill is still trying to find out who’s behind the threats with the wedding being days away.

There’s a knock at your office door. You look up & Billy is leaning there. You smile & he enters and closes the door. “We need to talk.”

You frown, “What’s up?” Billy drops into a chair in the front of your desk. He rubs his hands over his buzzcut, “I think the threats are coming from your dad. Or at the very least, he’s a part of it.”

It doesn’t register at first. You don’t come to a woman, days before the wedding saying “We need to talk.” Jesus Christ, Billy! The first thing that pops into your head is that he wants to call the wedding off. Nope. You quickly shift gears, “W…what? Why do you think that?”

“I asked your grandfather to see the records of the businesses that Fontana was working on & they are different from the ones that your dad showed me. I wouldn’t have taken the contract if there wasn’t proof of his embezzlement. Something’s not right. Your dad showed me doctored records.”

“Are you sure? Sorry, don’t answer that. I know, you’re sure.”

“I’m 100% sure. Those were NOT the docs your father gave me. I wanted to tell you first, before bringing it to your grandfather’s attention.” Resting your elbows on your desk, you press your palms against you eyes, trying to relieve the pressure building. “Angel?”

You take a deep stuttering breath, “I’m not surprised, but…” you trail off. “I’ve fought with my father many times before, but I didn’t think it’d be like this.” Billy rounds your desk & pulls you up out of your chair & into his arms. “That was a human heart in that box. From my father, Billy. We’re going to see him at the rehearsal dinner! The wedding is this weekend! He’s supposed to walk me down the aisle.”

“I know.” Bill’s hand on the back of your head, holds you tighter to his chest. “We got a meeting with your grandfather first thing in the morning. We’ll figure this out.”

You pull away from him, "I know we will," nodding. You look up at him and see the concern in his eyes & it warms your soul. You pull him down so you can kiss him. "Thank you."

"You think you can get someone to cover for you? We can head home?"

Shaking your head, "I'm closing tonight. It's already late, I don't want to call someone in."

"You want me to stay with you?" He smiles, "I can sit up at the bar, or back here with you?"

"It's ok, Billy. I'm good."

"Call me if you change your mind, and I'll come back."

"You're sweet." Billy always brings a smile to your lips. "I'll see you at home."

*****

The meeting with grandfather went as well as can be expected. You're accusing his son of pretty terrible things. He promised to look into it, but he was shorter with you than normal, but you thanked him for his time & left. You told Billy, you needed to trust him. If he said he'll look into it, he will.

*****

Billy got bullied by your nonna into letting you stay with her at their house. Grandmother wouldn't hear of you staying together. It was bad luck. Bill went out with his guys. You don't know what Frank had planned, but you're sure they had fun. You forgo a night with the bridal party. That would have been torture, choosing to stay in with nonna. Grandfather was holed up in his study working. You were barred from helping him tonight. The 3 of you had dinner & watched movies. They've always had rooms for you set up in their homes. A perk of being the favorite granddaughter.

Getting pampered for the wedding ended up being an all-day event. Not going to lie and say you didn't enjoy the spa treatments & having someone do your hair & make-up. Slipping into your gown made you catch your breath. Dare we say it...you look like a princess. That part of you, that lays hidden & buried deep down inside...the little girl who still believed in Prince Charming & Fairy Princesses. The little girl, who had to be as tough & as strong as the boys, which left her lonely growing up, & only in her solitude did she image a day like today. This was her dream come true. In a couple of short hours, you will be Mrs. William Russo.

"Piccola!" Grandfather's deep baritone was accompanied by firm knocks on the door. Your excitement was mirrored on your grandmother's face. You stand & fluff out your dress and nod to her, so she can let her husband in.

"Il mio, bambina." My baby. He kisses you on both cheeks and envelops you in a warm hug. "Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as your grandmother on our wedding day," winking at his wife. You see the love between your grandparents and it makes you hopeful for you and Billy.

"The cars are here. But I was also sent on a mission." He hands you a black leather box wrapped with a gold ribbon. "Your groom, wanted you to have this."

You take the box and go to sit on the bed. It was so sweet of Billy. You dab at your eyes so not to ruin your makeup. You open the card:

My Angel,

Time has really flown by, but it feels like I've known you forever. You were the missing piece to my soul. All this time, I've been walking around with a hole in my heart. I can't wait to watch you conquer the world and for you to show everyone what you are capable of. I'm so honored I'll get to stand by your side as your husband. Maria told me I was responsible for getting you something "new". You've been my Angel & now you'll become my Queen. I hope you like it.

Please get your ass in the car & come here now. I'll be the guy at the end of the aisle with the biggest smile on my face.

I love you.

Billy

He's never said he's loved you until now. Tears roll down your cheeks and you can't help but laugh. You open the box & nestled in satin is a delicate diadem. It's stunning. A tiara will give the finishing touches to a little girls dream of being a princess. Intricately woven along the sides are what you guess to be angel wings. You're his angel & his queen. Grandmother helps you secure the tiara and hugs you.

"Are you ready? Nervous?"

You shake your head, "I'm ready, but not nervous. I can't wait to see him." You laugh. "You and nonno can head out. I'm just going to fix my make up. Damn Billy for making me cry." You hurry back to the bathroom, "I'll be 10 minutes behind you."

*****

She's late. She's late. She's late.

"Women are always late. Maria 10 minutes late for our wedding."

Frankie is trying to make Billy feel better, but his Angel's 30 minutes late. Her grandparents said she was right behind them. "Can you call her?"

Frank steps to the side & calls, but to no answer. "Sorry, man. She didn't pick up." She changed her mind. She didn't want to spend a lifetime with a fucking monster. My mom didn't want me. Why would she?? But then Bill remembers how angry you got over being compared to his mother. You would never stand him up like this. Not in front of all your guests. You would never hurt him like this. Overwhelmed with pending fear of doom that you get at the height of anxiousness. Billy stomach feels like it's going to drop & his heart literally can't race any quicker. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows, something terrible is going on here. His angel is in danger.

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

#billy russo fanfiction #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo #S2 billy russo au

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twilightknight17 · 3 months

Text

Today on P3R, we’re technically covering three play sessions, because I didn’t have time to make a post before Katsucon. But a lot of that was Tartarus, so it’s not actually too much. ^_^

(Katsu pictures are coming at some point.)

Anyway, we’re off to Tartarus to train some and play with the new special attacks we got last time we were here! And get a little higher while we’re at it, so, let’s g--

Oh god oh fuck not you

It’s not the boss version, so it’s fine, but I didn’t think things showed up as enemies until after they were bosses???

The other reason we were in Tartarus was to get black quartz to trade to the guy in Escapade for a discount on fashion glasses. (Is there somewhere that will buy my gemstones? The police station won’t, and I get why, but like… I just have these.)

She looks very nice in those, actually.

Back at school, we’re still having a time. Odagiri of the student council has moved on to accusing the vice president over this one cigarette. And is not being diplomatic about it.

I’m gonna mess up his social link just because I keep not agreeing with him on these things. X’’’D

I’ve also met Keisuke Hiraga of the art club, who is a very good artist, but his dad is a doctor, so he’s also… Very Fussy. XDDDD

I can now hang out with my friends in the dorm, and I still think it’s weird that it calls them social links when I can’t start any of the girls’ links yet, and I can’t actually link with Junpei and Akihiko. I had tea with Mitsuru, though, and watched DVDs with Yukari, read manga with Junpei, and cooked with Akihiko. It’s nice! And some of them do give me stat boosts and items, so that’s cool.

I’m smooth now~

...well, shit. Here we go.

Minato’s theurgy skills are apparently the fusion spells, which you’re allowed to use even when you don’t have the actual personas with you, which is nice. The two I have so far are Orpheus and Apsaras’ Cadenza, and the Jack Bros doing a standup routine, which is cute.

I also got my first introduction to the Reaper. None of these floors really seem large enough to worry about it, so I think this appearance was scripted. Easy enough to get away from, though.

Nice.

Wait, what??? Can it do that??????

Once we found the missing girl, we escorted her back to the entrance, and I kept going til I found the next barrier floor. We’re done for now, so it’s time to go work on some more requests. Liz has a good one here. :D

I love that all the Velvet attendants have a soft spot for Jack Frost.

We also get our first intro to Koromaru!

Apparently he walks himself each day, since his owner at the shrine passed away. He stops for pets, but then carries on with his routine all on his own. He’s such a good dog. T_T

Ikutsuki drags us away from fussing over Koromaru to have a proper SEES meeting. He’s concluded that the Full Moon Shadows we’ve seen so far follow the Arcana from I to IV, and that there should theoretically be eight more, spanning from the Magician to Strength. And if we destroy them all, it will get rid of Tartarus and the Dark Hour, and we will have saved Iwatodai from Apathy Syndrome!

...they are us. There’s not much more we can say, Ikutsuki.

Yeah, let’s go to the mall after that seriousness. We can check out a new social link!

...oh yeah because this won’t go wrong.

School is still kicking my ass because this school is insane. But Junpei gets it, at least.

I can’t spend time with Fuuka unless my courage is badass-level, because apparently her food is just that scary. She wants me to be a badass, Mitsuru wants me to be a genius… Is Yukari gonna want a casanova or something? X’D

And even though Mitsuru wants me to be a genius, she called the police because she thought Junpei’s messy room meant someone had broken in.

And, as my last act before leaving for Katsu, these guys have made their first appearance, executing people in the Dark Hour based on requests on a revenge website. I don’t know how they wake people up from the coffins, but Tattoo Man over here is blasting people with a real gun, so that’s gonna be a problem~

[KATSU INTERMISSION]

I return from my convention, happy and optimistic, and school is immediately still full of bullshit. XD

You know, Keisuke, if you dad doesn’t want you to be an artist, and wants you to take over the hospital, why does he have fancy paintbrushes?

Anyway, Keisuke is about to win an art contest and gain the opportunity to study art abroad. And his dad is actually encouraging him to study abroad, so now he doesn’t know if he wants to do it because he doesn’t want to do what his dad wants. It’s kind of ridiculous, but the Fortune Arcana is all about choices, so… I guess.

We’re also off to fashion club to hang out with Bebe, who is actually surprisingly lovely despite being French. I appreciate his utter weeaboo enthusiasm. But… his aunt passed away unexpectedly, and he doesn’t know if his uncle will support letting him continue to study abroad. So not only is he upset that his aunt is gone, he also might have to leave the country he loves.

Neither were you, dude! It’s okay!

This is not quite NieR Automata levels of “everything is bad”, but things are pretty bad. I mean… people are just leaving the Lost laying on the sidewalks. :/

The Lost are the ones with Apathy Syndrome, but everyone else seems pretty apathetic, too.

I took Elizabeth to Iwatodai Station, and we had a lovely time.

The takoyaki lady can see her, which, don’t worry, ma’am. Just showing my weird cousin around. She won’t tell me what’s in the takoyaki instead of octopus, though, because apparently the knowledge would be detrimental. Which… okay, Liz. Thanks. That’s not worrisome at all.

When last I saw Maiko, she was planning to ask her parents why they were getting a divorce, in the hopes of being able to fix it. Which, not a great plan, but I couldn’t actually stop her. She wants to talk now, though, so we’ll see how that wen--

WHERE IS HE

Maybe we can throw them into Tartarus. Fucking hell. Maiko wants to run away from home so that her parents are forced to work together to find her, and I am NOT allowed to beg Mitsuru to let her stay at the dorm. This sucks so much. She wants me to keep her plan a secret, but good lord. This is going to go so badly.

I go home to stew on my thoughts and play computer games for babies to up my courage.

However that works. X’D

Lastly, I’ve reached my first choice that could potentially reverse a social link, I think?

We commit scandalous hand-holding, and it’s nice. Chihiro clearly has a crush on me, but I don’t know who I want to date, yet. OBVIOUSLY, I have my preference, but since my preference isn’t available, I dunno. Fuuka is nice. Mitsuru is… great, but also SO far out of my league. XDDD

Pharos came back for my one-week full moon reminder, so I guess that’s up next. They keep implying it’s gonna be the Lovers shadow, since couples are passing out and someone mentioned Shirakawa Boulevard, but I thought Hierophant was next.

Ah, well.

#Li plays P3Re #how are the French kid and the elementary schooler my favorite ''official'' social links

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ghostly-gifts · 7 months

Text

🎃🌹 Trick or treat!!! 🏍️🎃

On this haunting Halloween night, @technicallyverycowboy has been haunted by the spooky ghost @justanothervariant, and they've left behind a treat!

A Different Game

by @justanothervariant

When Gun first asked him to keep an eye on Porsche, Vegas’s thoughts naturally turned to seduction. He’d used his attractiveness many times to gain an advantage, ferret out information or bring someone over to the minor family. Besides, Porsche was a handsome guy; this time, it might even be fun.

Destiny seemed to be favouring him; on his next visit to the major family compound, Vegas spotted Porsche alone and struggling with his lighter. Vegas stepped up to his side, smoothly lit the cigarette and began his well-honed routine of smiles and flirtation. But instead of smiling back or blushing, Porsche looked distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t until Vegas dialled it down a notch that Porsche seemed to relax; an alarm tripped in the back of Vegas’s mind, and he realised that he might need to rethink his tactics. That evening he called on his main family informant, and within the hour he had a copy of their comprehensive dossier on Porsche Pachara Kittisawasd.

Vegas skimmed over the details of Porsche’s martial arts training, his family background, his educational history. His attention snagged on a note that Porsche had worked for years at a local nightclub called Hum Bar. The staff and regulars would be able to tell Vegas far more about Porsche than any dossier, so he put on his favourite shirt and went to see it for himself.

The owner, resplendent in sequins and leather, welcomed him with a wide smile and literal open arms. “Welcome, welcome, always nice to have such stylish guests!” she beamed. “My name is Yok, your hostess for the evening. This is your first time here, I’m sure - I’d remember that handsome face for certain.”

Vegas smiled, immune to the flattery. “Actually, I’m here because one of my friends told me about a bartender that works here - Porsche, is it?”

“Ah, sorry khun, Porsche isn’t working tonight,” Yok said, with a regretful cluck of her tongue. “But we have many other talented servers to help you. I’ll introduce you to Mo, he’s a genius with cocktails.” She signalled to one of the bartenders and said, “Mo, this gentleman is an honoured guest this evening, be sure to serve him well.”

“Of course. What can I get you, khun?” asked Mo.

Vegas slid a folded 1,000 baht note across the bar and asked, “Can you tell me any more about this Porsche? I’d really love to meet him.”

Mo’s eyes locked onto the money, but he said regretfully, “Oh, well…sorry, khun, but Porsche is my friend. I don’t think I should tell you anything without asking him first.”

Vegas nodded to hide his irritation, then added a second note. “I see. Well, at least tell me this - is it even likely that he’d be interested in me, or are his tastes more…conventional?”

The bartender glanced around, then snatched up the money and said, “I’ve only ever seen him leave with female guests, so sorry.”

Vegas turned away, the man already dismissed in his mind. His informant had seemed sure that there was some interest between Kinn and Porsche, but perhaps it was only on his cousin’s side. Perhaps Porsche was straight, or closeted, or had just never experimented with a man before. Whatever the truth, Vegas realised that going into full seduction mode was more likely to spook him than win him over. Malicious delight shivered through him as he imagined Kinn’s graceless attempts to woo Porsche, the possessiveness and entitlement that would be so off-putting to a guy with no experience. Vegas smiled to himself, a new plan already settling into place.

To win Porsche over, first Vegas would have to become his friend.

* * *

Vegas was used to getting quick results. Whoever he put his mind to pursuing - Kinn’s exes, Gun’s business contacts, random strangers in clubs - sooner rather than later, they gave in to him. It made his slow, subtle wooing of Porsche a novelty, but one he found himself enjoying immensely.

When Gun next visited his brother for lunch, Vegas went to say hello to the bodyguards but didn’t linger. He made small talk, tried to appear genuinely interested in their responses, and didn’t focus on Porsche more than anyone else. Kinn and Tankhun both gave him suspicious glares but he smiled and shrugged it off, noting Porsche’s frown at Kinn’s possessiveness.

At the diamond auction, he delighted in the palpable awkwardness between Porsche and Kinn; his cousin looked out of his depth, despite his pretty friend’s attempts to encourage him. When Kinn smiled at Porsche like he was suffering from indigestion, Vegas could hardly believe his good fortune. To capitalise on the weirdness between the two of them, Vegas gave specifically worded instructions to his mole on the bar staff then collected a small glass of clean water and took it to Porsche.

When Porsche was reluctant to take it, Vegas said, “I know you’re on duty and don’t have much time for breaks, that’s all. But no problem, I’ll take it back.”

“No, wait,” Porsche said, his face betraying all of his emotions as he wavered before finally taking the drink. He downed it hastily, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

Vegas nodded. “We’re not so harsh with our people in the minor family. Standing around all night, you’ll get thirsty. You should be able to go and grab a drink.”

Porsche’s smile was quick, reluctant. He gestured to his earpiece and said, “I get shouted at for not standing up straight enough, never mind leaving my position.”

“My cousin always was more of a stickler for conformity,” Vegas said, adding a note of regret to his tone. “But to me, you’re a person first and a bodyguard second.”

Vegas saw the moment his words snagged in Porsche’s brain, the hint of surprise and gratitude.

“Anyway, I’ll let you focus,” Vegas said, briefly laying a hand on Porsche’s shoulder. “Remember, though, that your own needs are as important as anyone else’s.”

“Yeah, okay,” Porsche nodded.

Later, sitting in his booth surveying the crowd of rich idiots and bootlickers, he saw Porsche staggering from the room and nodded to his men to follow. They knew what to do, where to take Porsche. A word from his inside man would send Kinn up to the Imperial Suite, where he’d find Porsche passed out ‘drunk’ on duty. Repercussions would follow, punishment guaranteed, the wedge between Kinn and Porsche driven ever deeper.

Vegas allowed himself a smile as he settled back and sipped his champagne; so far, his plan was working beautifully.

* * *

A couple of days later, once the dust had settled, Vegas messaged his informant for an update. It was a surprise when, instead of just replying, Ken showed up at the compound to give a report in person.

Vegas took Ken into his office, shut the door and asked, “What’s so important that you had to risk coming here yourself?”

“I thought you’d have questions,” Ken replied, his gaze dipping to Vegas’s lips.

Vegas sighed; this was a complication he didn’t need. “I see. Go ahead, then.”

“Porsche was right where you said he’d be,” Ken said, grinning. “Kinn looked like he’d been slapped when he saw him, sprawled out and snoring on that big fancy bed. He made us leave while he sobered Porsche up.”

“And he believed that Porsche had wandered in there and passed out drunk?”

“Yes, I said I saw him drinking earlier. Khun Korn was furious, so Kinn gave him to me and Big for his punishment,” Ken said, malicious delight glinting in his eyes.

“I’m sure you didn’t make it pleasant,” Vegas said wryly.

“It was brutal,” Ken said with relish. “I fucking loved it.” His spiteful glee was almost charming, but marred by his obvious, pathetic hunger for praise.

Ken went on to give a full report of the main family’s business for the last few days, Vegas interrupting a few times for clarification or more details. When they were done, Vegas said, “Thanks for all the intel. We really do appreciate it. And remember, if Porsche goes out anywhere without Kinn, call me immediately.”

“I will, khun,” Ken said, hovering despite the dismissal.

“Was there something else?” Vegas asked, disquiet stirring.

Ken licked his lips. “It’s just…I’m off duty tonight, so I thought we could - ”

“No,” Vegas interrupted. “Not tonight, I have too much to do.”

“You said that last time,” Ken said, a hint of a whine in his voice, then in English. “It’s been ages, Vegas. I miss you.”

Vegas managed, somehow, not to roll his eyes. Instead he reached out to run his thumb across Ken’s pouting lower lip. “I know. I miss this mouth, believe me. But Pa has given me a very important task, and I need to focus. It won’t be much longer, I promise.”

Ken’s tongue darted out to lick Vegas’s thumb. “Maybe I could just blow you, then? I’ll get you off real fast, I swear.”

His bratty eagerness was tempting, but Vegas shook his head. “I said no. Do we need to do some more discipline training?”

“No,” Ken said immediately. “Fine, not tonight. But soon, right?”

“Do you think I’m a liar, Ken?”

Ken swallowed. “No, Khun Vegas.”

Vegas smiled. “Good boy,” he said, knowing it would make Ken shudder, viciously delighted when it did. “Now run along. I have a lot of thinking to do.”

* * *

When Vegas got the call from Ken, he dropped everything and drove over to Hum Bar. As he’d predicted, Porsche was awed by his new motorbike and needed only a little prodding to take it for a drive.

“Where shall we go?” Porsche called back to him as they sped down the floodlit roads.

“Anywhere you want,” Vegas replied, wrapping his arms around Porsche and leaning into the warmth of his back.

It was exhilarating, riding with Porsche. He drove fast and took risks, but handled the bike deftly enough that Vegas could relax and enjoy it. Vegas reminded himself that this was just part of a plan, but it was hard not to get caught up in Porsche’s enthusiasm, in the freedom of driving into the night not knowing where he was going. Elation bubbled up in his chest, dizzyingly bright, and he raised a fist and a cry into the night sky. He caught Porsche’s grin, couldn’t help laughing; he didn’t feel like himself, suddenly, in an oddly comforting way.

Eventually Porsche pulled into a small parking lot down beside the river. The surrounding businesses were shut and there was nobody around as they settled onto a bench overlooking the river. The breeze was fresh, lifting Vegas’s hair gently. The water lapped below them, its soft susurration calming and kind. Lights twinkled in the water, a string of headlights streaming across the bridge nearby, but here it was dark and quiet with only a little light to show him Porsche’s face.

He looked happy, at first, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. It was disarming, genuine and honest, aimed at Vegas without intent or agenda. Vegas told himself that it was a weakness; his heart sang a different song.

But then the smile dipped, and his head dropped, and Vegas knew he’d been right; softness always meant weakness.

Vegas played his opening gambit. “Tankhun looked wasted, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that. I take it you had a good night?”

Porsche shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You guess so? You know you smell like perfume, right?” Vegas asked, grinning.

“Oh. Yeah. I met a woman at the bar and we went outside but…” Porsche sighed, tilted his head back. The moonlight silvered his bronze skin; he looked, Vegas thought, beautiful. “My head wasn’t in the right place, I s’pose. It’s not usually a problem for me, I can switch off my brain when I’m with someone, but since that thing with Kinn - ” At that he stopped dead, eyes widening before he looked away.

A cool, vicious thrill spiked in Vegas’s gut. As he’d hoped, maybe even expected, Kinn had overplayed his hand, and Vegas was ready to reap the benefits.

Vegas laid a gentle hand on Porsche’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Porsche said, something raw in his voice and his eyes. “I’m really confused, and I feel like I don’t know myself any more, and I’m making all these stupid choices and I don’t even know why. Do you ever feel like that?” He glanced over at Vegas, and shook his head. “No, of course you don’t. You always know what you’re doing, right?”

Vegas blinked, covered his surprise. “I like to have a plan, if that’s what you mean. Doesn’t mean I always know what I’m doing.”

“But you’re so…put-together all the time,” Porsche said, tilting his head in an alarmingly endearing way. “Your clothes, and your hair - your amazing bike over there…not like me, I just stumble from one disaster to the next. Runs in the family, I guess.”

Vegas took a moment to think, unsettled and uncertain. “I don’t think that’s true,” he eventually said. “You seem to be doing fine to me. Being a bodyguard is a tough job, I couldn’t do it. But you look like you’re fitting right into it.”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Porsche exclaimed. “I’m only here to protect my brother, this isn’t who I want to be. The dumb thing is, if he knew what I was doing he’d be so ashamed.” His tone was plaintive and vulnerable; it called to the predator in Vegas.

“Surely he’d appreciate you taking care of him?” Vegas asked.

“I don’t know about that.” Porsche slumped back on the bench, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had to be more of a parent than a brother, and it sucks. I don’t know how to be his dad, y’know? But our uncle is useless and just brings trouble into our home. I do my best to shield Chay, I don’t want him to have to do the same ugly shit that I’ve done just to survive. Thing is, he’s almost 18 and suddenly thinks he knows it all, but when I look at him I still see that miserable little kid who kept asking where our parents had gone.” He swiped the back of his hand across his nose, glanced over at Vegas and said, “But you know what that’s like, right? You look out for Macau, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Vegas said, thrown. That instinct to pounce on Porsche’s vulnerability was ebbing, replaced by a sense of empathy, connection. “My father wants him to start getting more involved with our family business, but I’ve been shielding him from it as much as I can. I can’t do it forever, though.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Porsche nodded, nudging Vegas with his elbow. “I knew you’d get it.”

Vegas smiled, unable to resist. “But do the little shits appreciate it?”

Porsche laughed, sudden and irresistible. “No, they definitely do not.”

The silence stretched, and Vegas let it expand comfortably between them. He knew that Porsche’s life was filled with noise and busyness, commands and directions; he needed to be different, a safe place for Porsche.

“Why does Kinn hate you so much?” Porsche asked eventually. “You’re family, right? But he keeps telling me not to trust you, and I don’t get it at all. You’ve been so kind to me - like tonight.”

Against all odds, a weird swirling sense of regret kicked up in Vegas’s gut. But he smiled softly and said, “We’re family, yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. He sees me as a rival, not a cousin. That’s the way we’ve been raised - I know it might not make sense to an outsider but that’s how it’s always been.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Porsche said bluntly. “Family is everything. You should all support each other, not fight over everything.” He looked at Vegas, completely without obfuscation. “Did you never get on, then? With any of them?”

Vegas was all set to use the opening, say something to undermine Kinn and build sympathy for himself. But then, out of nowhere, he was hit with a memory of playing in the park with Kinn while their mothers sat chatting in the sunshine. He hadn’t thought about that for a long time, and to his horror he felt his throat thicken and burn. He was about to shrug it off, get back to his plan, until he saw what looked like sympathy in Porsche’s expressive eyes and the words began to flow.

“We used to play together - Kinn and I, I mean. Our mothers would arrange it, when our fathers were busy. Sometimes we’d picnic in the park, or go to our favourite sweet shop, or drive out along the coast and spend the day by the sea.”

“That sounds nice,” Porsche said.

“It was,” Vegas said. “But then Pa found out and he…he put a stop to it.”

“Oh,” Porsche said; just that, oh, but it was soft and understanding, and Vegas had to clench his jaw against the tears that prickled behind his eyes.

The silence swept back in and Vegas fought for control of himself; he was off-plan, unprepared.

“I suppose,” Porsche said slowly, “that it’s hard for you to make friends in your position. But maybe, if it’s not too weird or, like, against the rules…maybe you could think of me as your friend.”

Vegas laughed; he’d prepared a line just like that to use on Porsche, and the ridiculous coincidence struck him as hilarious.

Porsche frowned, sat up straighter. “Okay, I get it, you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me.”

“No, Porsche,” Vegas said, unthinkingly reaching out to grasp Porsche’s arm. “It’s not that - of course I want to be friends with you. It’s just…nobody’s ever said anything like that to me. Everyone’s scared of me, or hates me, or wants to use me.” He stopped himself, honesty swelling too close to the surface.

“I’m not scared of you,” Porsche said with a big grin, knocking his elbow into Vegas’s ribs again. “I think you’re a much nicer guy than anyone realises.”

Painful as it was, Vegas managed to smile. “You’re sweet, Porsche. But you’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Porsche insisted. “I know these things. I’m good at reading people.”

It was almost funny, how wrong Porsche was; how much Vegas wished he was right.

“We should be getting back,” Vegas said, his reluctance less of an act than it should have been. “Kinn will be thinking I’ve kidnapped you.”

“I don’t really give a flying fuck what Kinn thinks,” Porsche said expansively, but he stood when Vegas did. “Thanks for tonight, though. I needed to get away for a while.”

“You can always reach out to me,” Vegas said, his hand resting on Porsche’s arm for a long moment.

Porsche’s expression, for once, was hard to read as he studied Vegas’s face. “You too,” he said. “The only good thing to come out of this mess so far…is you.”

Vegas had no answer to that. He let Porsche drive home, smiled and demurred at Porsche’s gratitude. When Porsche hugged him, tight and close and sincere, Vegas closed his eyes and squeezed back just as hard. It was foolish, and childish, but for a moment he let himself pretend that they could actually be friends.

* * *

Vegas smoothed back his hair as he waited for Porsche to answer the bell. Behind him in the darkness stood a group of men, waiting as instructed.

The gate creaked open and Porsche said, “Vegas? What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you,” Vegas said, adding a little fear to his tone. “One of our informants told me that there’s a plot to kidnap Kinn - is he here yet?”

“No,” Porsche frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“Pa called Uncle Korn to tell him what we’d heard, and he mentioned you had this week off. Apparently your roommate said Kinn was planning to come here to see you.”

Porsche’s expression melted from confusion to annoyance. “To drag me back, probably. Asshole.”

Porsche’s eye roll made Vegas smile, until he caught and hid it. “I brought some men with me to protect you, you should come with me now,” he said. “Uncle Korn is going to call Kinn back home.”

“So much for my week off,” Porsche sighed, “but you didn’t have to come all the way out here yourself, you could have called me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Vegas said, a lie but also not.

Porsche smiled and gestured Vegas inside. “Well, come in for a second while I explain to my friends.”

“And Porchay? He needs to leave too,” Vegas said, following Porsche across the lawn.

Porsche smiled over his shoulder. “It’s okay, he’s away at camp. Thank you, though.”

Guilt tugged at Vegas’s belly. “Sure. I have a younger brother too, remember?”

Two men were sitting at the garden table, the air thick with the smell of pork frying. One smiled at Vegas, the other narrowed his eyes and blatantly looked Vegas up and down.

“This is Jom, and Tem,” Porsche told Vegas, then said to his friends, “Sorry, but you need to go home. I have to leave now.”

“Oh? Emergency booty call?” asked Jom, waggling his eyebrows.

“Some men are on their way here who you really don’t want to meet,” Vegas said, noting subtly how Porsche blushed at Jom’s words. “I’m sorry to break up your evening, gentlemen, but believe me that it’s for your own good.”

When they looked at him sceptically, Porsche added, “He’s not kidding - clear off home, now!”

“Ugh, fine,” Jom grumbled, stuffing his mouth as he stood.

“Will you be okay?” Tem asked Porsche.

“Sure, Vegas will take care of me,” Porsche said.

Vegas froze as Porsche’s words thudded into his skin like bullets. His trust in Vegas, instinctual and freely given, felt like a burden and a blessing all at once. It was new, but not unwelcome, and made Vegas feel like scum.

As they all hurried across the lawn, Kinn stepped in through the open gate. “Porsche?” he said, his puzzled frown turning into a sneer as he added, “Vegas? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you get the call from your father?” Vegas asked, striving to keep the triumph locked down inside. “Donna Giulietta has sent some men after you, they’re probably tailing you right now. I came here to warn Porsche that you might be bringing danger to his door.”

“You fucking snake,” Kinn growled, moving towards Vegas, but Porsche stepped in between them to everyone’s surprise.

“Look, we all have to leave before those thugs arrive,” Porsche said, glaring at Kinn. “Vegas is here to help me, and I trust him. I’m not sure why you’re here, though.”

A flash of hurt surprise crossed Kinn’s face, before he schooled it back to his habitual scowl. “Well, how convenient. How do you know he didn’t bring them here?”

“If he was behind this, would he really have called your father to warn him, and then come here to help me?” Porsche snapped back.

“Porsche,” Vegas said, taking Porsche’s arm, “we don’t have time, they could be here any minute.”

As if on cue, a white van screeched around the corner. Vegas barked orders for his men to get Kinn to safety, then hurried Porsche across to his bike. As Porsche gunned the engine and Vegas climbed on behind him, he was unable to resist a grin back at Kinn before they sped away.

* * *

Vegas directed Porsche to his family’s safehouse. The Italians weren’t aware of it, Kinn had never been there, and it was probably the safest place for them to be. It was also peaceful, serene, beautiful without being showy; a contrast to the opulence of the main compound, and hopefully a place where Porsche would feel relaxed.

“Wow,” Porsche breathed, strolling out along a pier to a small summerhouse sitting over the lake. “This is gorgeous.”

Vegas leaned on the railing beside him, watching the stars swimming in the black water. “Yeah. I’d live here all the time, if I could.”

“Why can’t you?” Porsche asked, glancing over at him. “It’s not that far out of the city.”

“Macau needs to be near his school, he couldn’t live here, and I wouldn’t leave him,” Vegas said. “And anyway, Pa would never agree. He wants me close, so he can keep an eye on me.”

Porsche turned to face Vegas, one elbow on the wooden railing. “Hey, thanks for getting me out of there. That was a pretty close call.”

“Sure,” Vegas said, and smiled. “I told you before, I’m here when you need me.”

The words were like bile in his mouth. Somehow, lying to Porsche wasn’t the same as lying to Tawan. His secret lover was also a liar and a cheat, but gobbled up every word of praise, every platitude, every false declaration; it was easy, unsatisfying. But Porsche was earnest and genuine, sincere, kind. Lying to him made Vegas feel the weight of every label that had ever been pinned to his chest, made him long to be a different man.

Without warning, Porsche leaned forward and kissed him. Vegas was stunned, caught in a moment of hesitation. This was the perfect outcome, the fruition of his plan, the best possible way to hurt and weaken Kinn. Why, then, was he reluctant to pounce on it?

Porsche pulled back, brows drawing down. “Sorry, you don’t seem…I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” Vegas said, grasping Porsche’s hand. “That was just sudden - I didn’t know you were interested in me that way.”

Porsche’s smile was a light in the darkness. “Well, I am,” he said playfully. “What are you going to do about it?”

This was what he’d wanted, what he’d planned and worked and manoeuvred for; but again, the flirty response stuck in Vegas’s mouth.

“Vegas?” Porsche asked, a touch of hurt in his tone but his thumb stroking gently over Vegas’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Vegas said, summoning a smile. “Tonight’s just been…a lot.”

Porsche’s free hand lifted to rest on Vegas’s cheek, butterfly-light. “I know. But we’re safe now.” He leaned in, watching Vegas’s mouth, and kissed him again.

Vegas closed his eyes and kissed Porsche back, a hand on his hip to pull him closer. He felt exhilarated and sick, aroused and disgusted, until it was too much and he had to draw back again.

“I can’t, Porsche,” he gasped, adrenalin making him shaky. “It’s not fair, you don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I can make my own decisions, Vegas - I’ve had enough of other people deciding what I need.”

“No, listen to me - I’m not the man you think I am,” Vegas said, a sense of desperation creeping over him; he couldn’t bear to imagine that soft glow in Porsche’s eyes turning to loathing when he realised he’d been played.

“I don’t care,” Porsche persisted. “I know you’ve done bad things, probably even worse than I know, but I still want you, Vegas. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me any more.”

When Porsche kissed him again, Vegas was too weak to resist.

#kinnporsche #gift exchange #fanfiction #ghost: JustAnotherVariant #haunted: technicallyverycowboy

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